Wisdom Spring (25 page)

“He might have,” I answered. “He seems to have confided in Clyde a lot. Now maybe he just kept it as general as possible, but maybe he let things slip.”

“And,” added Jess, “Clyde may be slow, but I don’t think there is anything wrong with his memory, even after all this time. He gets tired because of his age and the mental stimulation, but I think if I go in there knowing what to ask, I can get answers while he’s still fresh. It’s worth a try.”

“What are you hoping to get?” asked Joe, who seemed to have moved on from his discomfort.

“I don’t know,” she answered.

“I do,” I said. “If he gave any information at all about his childhood, we might start to understand something about the town. I’d like to go up to the town, but are we going to find anything there that can help us? Clyde might give us more information than the town does—there may be nothing much left there. Or, he might give us information that will help us know what to look for when we do get there. Normally I wouldn’t hold out a lot of hope that Clyde could help us, but if Jess’s dad suggests we see him, then there has to be something to it.”

Joe rolled his eyes.

“Enough!” I shouted at Joe, who almost fell over backwards in his chair. “You may not believe in any of this ghost business. I know you think it’s all shit, and if you had asked me a few weeks ago, I might have agreed with you. But Jess is not making this stuff up. Meeting Mill, getting across the Canadian border, even Jess and me meeting up in the first place, was all his doing. I’ve witnessed it. So if you don’t think it’s possible, that’s fine, I respect that. But don’t roll your eyes, and don’t question it. Got it?”

Joe softened. “Yeah.” He turned to Jess. “I’m sorry, Jess. No, I don’t believe in all this. It goes against everything I’m about. It’s like asking me to add two plus two and get five. But obviously something is happening that seems to be working, so who am I to question it? I’ll keep my opinions to myself.”

I held out my hand and we shook, and Jess went over and gave him a hug. The issue was now in the past.

We called the nursing home to make sure Clyde was up for visitors and they told us he’d be most alert around eleven, just before lunch. We decided that I’d go with Jess into his room, but like before, I’d stay in the background.

We arrived at eleven. We had asked on the phone if it was okay if we brought a small ice cream for him. Despite the fact that it might spoil his lunch, they responded with, “Sure, why not. At ninety he deserves some treats.” So Jess walked in with Clyde’s favorite dessert and I slipped in behind and quietly sat on the couch.

Clyde’s face lit up when he saw Jess and the ice cream.

“Clyde’s friend Jess is back. Yay!” he said. “You brought Clyde ice cream. You’re Clyde’s best friend.”

“I told you I’d come back,” replied Jess. “How are you doing today?”

“Doing good today. Clyde’s best friend is back.”

Jess talked small talk with him for a few minutes—not too long, knowing that he tired easily. Jess did most of the talking, as Clyde was busy savoring his ice cream. Finally, when he was done, she segued into the subject of Ben.

“When I was here last, you told me that your friend Ben Fremont might still be alive. So I thought I would try to see if he was so I could find him and maybe I could bring him to see you.”

Clyde’s face lit up, and I could tell Jess was sorry she used that line.

“Now, I don’t know if he’s alive, so don’t get your hopes up, but I thought I’d try. Is that okay that I try?”

“Clyde understands. Clyde’s friend Ben Fremont has been gone a long time.”

“Well, maybe you can help me find him. Can you think of anything he told you about the town he grew up in?”

“Bobby asked Clyde to think about that too.”

Jess looked back at me, puzzled.

“Who’s Bobby?” she asked.

Clyde looked back at her as if she were crazy. “You know. He told Clyde that he was your friend. That made him Clyde’s friend.”

Again, she glanced back at me, this time with a look of panic. Had somebody discovered us? It was all I could do to not interject in the conversation, but it was important that Jess do this alone. Clyde trusted her.

She turned back to Clyde. “When did you see Bobby?” she asked.

“Last night, when Clyde was sleeping. He told Clyde that it was important to help you find Ben, so Clyde thought and thought and thought.”

The Voice! Jess’s father. His name was Robert. He would have been ‘Bobby’ to someone like Clyde. Jess got it too. I could see her shoulders relax and a smile appear on her face.

“Yes,” she said, “Bobby and I are good friends, just like you and me. Did you think of anything?”

“Clyde remembers that Ben had lots of friends when he was a boy.”

“Did he say anything about his mother and father?”

“No, but Clyde thinks Ben was sad,” he said.

“Did he say why?”

“His friends left all the time. He had to keep making new friends.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“He was cold.”

“Cold?”

“All the time. He told Clyde that he liked Homer because it was warm. Clyde told him he was crazy. Homer was cold. But Ben said his town was colder.”

“Did Ben say anything about a mine?”

Clyde stared at Jess blankly.

“I guess not,” she muttered, directed toward me.

“Clyde needs to get ready for lunch now,” he said.

“Okay,” said Jess. “You were very helpful. I’m going to try to find Ben.” Her voice choked a bit. “Say hi to Bobby for me.”

“Okay, Jess. Clyde will. Bye.” And with that, Clyde moved his attention to preparing to go for lunch.

As we walked out, I said, “Really cold and lots of kids. That would fit Wisdom Spring. I thought it was interesting that the kids kept leaving. I wonder why.”

But Jess wasn’t listening. She was obviously thinking about “Bobby.”

“It sounded like he really talked to Clyde,” said Jess. “Why would he be able to do that with Clyde, but have so much trouble communicating to me?”

“Maybe it has to do with filters. Because our brains work to capacity, we filter everything that comes in—sort of like a spam filter—but Clyde’s mind isn’t busy and has none of those filters. He’s so simple that whatever comes in comes in. Maybe it was a more direct flow from your father to Clyde.”

“Funny,” she replied. “I actually envy Clyde right now.”

“Yeah, I know.” I took her hand and let her have her quiet moment before changing the subject back to her conversation with Clyde. “Thanks to your father—again—and Clyde, I think we’ve got some of what we were looking for. It’s time to go to Wisdom Spring.”

Chapter 28

“You’re shitting me, right?”

“I wish.” This was painful. Hutch knew he should have quit a long time ago. He’d never want to admit that he was out of his league, but the fact was, he was out of his league. There were just too many fires to put out—some of his own making, but many that would have appeared no matter who was in the position. There was too much secrecy. In fact, that was all there was. Even after all this time, he still hadn’t been given the full picture. He knew the organization was decades old. He knew that the current project—the one involving Hillstrom—was its “greatest” yet. But he knew that it was far from its only project. He had worked on some of the others. The projects had been going on from the moment of the organization’s inception. He saw the money changing hands, the blackmail, and the threats, many of which he was directly involved in. Some had failed, but most had been unqualified successes. The organization reached far into all branches of government, the military, and the private sector. Hillstrom was his first “homegrown” experience. As such, he was seeing a different side of the organization, one that you couldn’t walk away from. No, he was in way too deep. He couldn’t even attempt to leave now. To do so would be a death sentence.

He continued, “Colson wasn’t on that flight. My source tells me that some nothing kid was given the seat at the last minute.”

“Did your source tell you where we could find Colson?” asked Mays.

“He’s gone underground. We’re looking.”

“And now he suspects that it was sabotage.”

“Probably. As you suggested,” Hutch wanted to make sure Mays knew that he was responsible for this one, “I called and told him to drop the girl as a client, but, as I suspected, there was no way he’d do that. It just got him all the more committed.”

Mays ignored the transparent criticism. Who did this guy think he was? “Does anyone else know that he wasn’t on the flight?”

“I suspect that the media will pick up on it in a few days. Hard to say. Which brings up a question: You’ve spent a lot of years grooming Hillstrom for the presidency. Wouldn’t it have been easier to buy someone?”

“Don’t try to teach me my business. I’ve bought more people than you could ever imagine. Although we’ve made it almost impossible to do so, people can always follow the money, and this one was too important. It’s the final brick in a massive foundation. I needed someone totally dedicated to the cause—someone homegrown.”

“And if the girl told Colson enough that he’s now aware of our plan? If he does rear his head and goes to the media with it? Hillstrom’s run is over. Your greatest project is over.”

“My, you’re negative. While it would certainly be inconvenient, what proof would he have? Hillstrom is loved, Colson is not. People would laugh at him. You got rid of that researcher kid’s laptop and notes, right?”

“I did.”

“So anything the girl knows—and she may know next to nothing—is purely second-hand. Which means anything Colson knows is third-hand.”

“What if somebody believes him and researches Hillstrom like the kid did?”

Mays was tiring of the conversation. “First of all, that kid was a fluke. Hillstrom never should have used him for his autobiography. He should have used us, and only us. He got a little cocky, which I can assure you will never happen again. You never actually saw the notes, right?”

In fact, Hutch had, but he’d never tell his boss that.

“No.”

“The kid had precious little. He had just enough to make him question things and to know that something fishy was going on. That was it. The information just isn’t out there.”

Hutch silently agreed that the kid’s information was sketchy, at best. Easy enough to explain away, assuming the girl hadn’t found anything more.

“Hutch, do you get it now why when everyone else in the world transferred everything to computer, we chose not to? It’s too vulnerable. So even now, when it would be so much easier, cheaper, and faster to run this organization in cyberspace, I’ve chosen not to. Sure, we use all the latest technology for surveillance and anything that can’t come back to us, but for everything else, including communicating amongst ourselves, we do everything the old-fashioned way and stay well under the radar.”

“Hence Wisdom Spring,” said Hutch.

“Hence Wisdom Spring,” repeated Mays.

Chapter 29

“Here’s Wisdom Spring,” I said, pointing to a spot southeast of Fairbanks and in the mountains north of Delta Junction on our road atlas. “It’s way in the middle of nowhere. Any suggestions on how we get there?”

“I could fly us in,” said Scott. “Delta Junction has an airstrip, but we’d have to arrange some ground transportation after that.”

“I was thinking maybe driving up,” I said.

“How about both?” asked Jess.

“Jess is right,” said Joe. “If Scott and I fly up and you and Jess drive your SUV, it gives us options. If we need a fast getaway, the plane is available and we can ditch the Armada. But that will give us a good vehicle to head into the mountains with.”

“It’s a good twelve-hour drive,” said Jess, who was on the computer getting the directions. “And that’s just to Delta Junction.”

“Means I can sleep longer than you before flying up,” said Scott. “So, the question is,” he continued, “what exactly are we looking for? And,” he added, “how do we deal with the guards? Your Internet buddy told you there was one guard, but he thought there were more.”

“I don’t know the answer to the second part of your question,” I said, “But as to the first, just something that is going to give us a clue to Hillstrom’s background. Something that might help us solve this.”

“Jon?” Jess was still at the computer. “Your warning worked. Carl Jenkins took down his site on Wisdom Spring.”

“That’s a relief,” I said. “Remind me, assuming we make it through this and bring down Hillstrom, to call Carl and tell him why we rattled his world.”

“What do we have for weapons?” asked Joe.

“Did you guys keep any of the chopper guys’ guns?” I asked.

“I helped myself to the pilot’s .45,” said Joe. “Figured they owed me. But we left the rest for Scott’s friends.”

“They went out on a limb for us,” said Scott. “It was the least we could do. Besides, there’s no place in town that sells ammo for an M-16. Okay, so Joe, you have a .45, and whatever you picked up from the guys in Rochester.”

“A 9-mil,” said Joe.

“Okay, and Jon, you still have your .40, right?”

“Right. And Jess has her .380.”

“I think I could handle something bigger,” she said.

“Most of the guns I have would be way too big for you,” said Scott, “but I think I have a solution. Follow me.”

We waited for him as he went into a small storage room.

“Christmas in Homer!” he called out. “We’ll open presents one at a time.”

We all looked at each other. What was Scott going to produce?

“Okay,” he said, coming out with the first item. “Jess, instead of something bigger, how about a second gun in addition to your .380? I have here a .22,” handing it to her. “The magazine holds a lot of rounds and it’s easy to shoot. It’s not as powerful as the other guns, so instead of bringing someone down with one shot, you might have to bring him down with three.”

“I like it,” she replied, caressing it. “It feels good. Thanks, Santa.”

He went back in for more. He was enjoying this. “I’ve got some rifles in here. Jon, you always enjoyed playing cowboys when you were a kid, so how about a lever-action Winchester .45 caliber? You’ll feel like Jimmy Stewart in
Winchester 73
.”