Beginnings and Ends (Short Story) (6 page)

FBI Agent Jules Cassidy nodded. “Yes, ma’am. They call themselves the Freedom Network. Chester Lord wrote a number of books and—”

“This is a man who was über-conservative even for his time,” she pointed out. “There are rumors that Judge Lord looked the other way and allowed lynchings—”

“I believe they refer to him as honest and old-fashioned,” Jules told her. “And his son, Hal, was a highly decorated war hero—you surely know more about that part of it than I do. But I can tell you one thing. Apparently these people are very protective of the memories of both father and son, and they’re not at all happy at the idea of you outing Hal in your movie.”

Mercedes’s assistant had put a copy of the
American Hero
script onto the table in front of them, along with the warning that they could not take it out of this building.

Like … what? They were going to sell it on e-bay? Or give a copy of the most provocative scenes to a tabloid like the
National Voice
?

Cosmo flipped through it. It was the story of Jack Shelton and Harold “Hal” Lord—two young American soldiers who met in Paris in early 1945, toward the end of World War Two.

Hal was a highly decorated war hero, and because he spoke fluent German, he volunteered to be part of an Allied team determined to find out whether Hitler’s scientists had succeeded in creating an atomic bomb. The movie alleged that Hal Lord was gay, but in total denial. He was not just in the closet, he was sitting so far in the back with his eyes shut, he couldn’t even see the door.

Until Jack Shelton made the scene.

“Hal’s own granddaughter has given our movie her blessing,” Mercedes pointed out. “If you’re looking for the sex, the first gay love scene isn’t until page seventy-two.”

Cos looked up, directly into her eyes, which were a remarkably pretty color. She was talking to him. She thought he was looking for …

“The hetero couple doesn’t get it on until close to the end of the movie either—page seventy-nine,” she continued. “I think you’ll find it’s all tastefully done. We fade to black in both of the romantic subplots. We’ve been very up-front about that, so I’m not sure why all those Internet crazies have their panties in a twist.”

“I wasn’t …” he started to say, but her attention was already back on Cassidy. Fine. Let her think whatever she wanted to think.

“Can we back up a bit?” Mercedes asked. “You said earlier that these Freedom people—all megathousands of them—have these weekend get-togethers up in, in … Monkey-Fuck, Idaho, where they sit around a campfire, doing what? Reciting eighty-seven-verse epic poems lauding the glory that was Chester ‘Baby-Lyncher’ Lord?”

“Well, we’re not exactly sure what they do during their retreats,”
Jules told her. He was trying to keep this serious, but Cosmo could tell that “Monkey-Fuck” had him biting the insides of his cheeks. “They’re pretty adamant about not letting outsiders into their inner circle. Still, whatever they do up there, we think it’s probably more likely that it has to do with firearms rather than poetry.”

“But whatever they’re doing, they’re doing it in Idaho, right?” she asked. “So I should be okay as long as I stay in California.” She looked over at her assistant. “Patty, call Steve Spielberg with my regrets. I won’t be able to attend his potato-picking party in Boise next week, gosh darn it.”

Jules was hanging in. “Ms. Chadwick. With all due respect, yesterday this was a joke. But today the Freedom Network’s involved. There have been several e-mails that have raised a red flag. I don’t have the details yet, but my boss, Max Bhagat, is concerned. And believe me, when he becomes concerned, you should take it seriously.”

Mercedes looked again at the computer documents Jules had given her—pages upon pages, printed directly from the Freedom Network’s website. They included a sheet which had a picture of her face in the center of a bull’s-eye target.

She laughed, but to Cosmo’s ears it sounded a little forced. “This is priceless, you know. I couldn’t buy this kind of publicity.”

Her brother spoke, his voice sharp. “I think we’ve all agreed this has gone too far, Jane.”

Mercedes—or Jane, as her brother called her—looked up at Cosmo, as if she’d somehow decided that she trusted him above everyone else in the room. “Am I really in danger?” she asked.

He put down the script. Not from him. Nothing moved him less than a woman like J. Mercedes Chadwick. Yes, she was beautiful, with a perfect oval of a face that hinted at a Middle Eastern ancestry. And that body …

He cleared his throat. “Lotta crazy people out there,” he told her. She seemed to want more, so he kept going. “Seems like a no-brainer to me—letting us come in and provide security, letting HeartSong pay for it.”

She looked down at that picture again, frowning slightly. And Cosmo suspected that it scared her more than she was willing to admit.

But she kept up her act. “They spelled my name wrong,” she said.

“Yeah, but they got our address right,” her brother pointed out.

There was silence then, as that bit of info sank in.

J. Mercedes finally sighed, swearing under her breath. Then she looked up again, directly at Cosmo. “How do we do this?” she asked him. “How exactly is this going to work?”