Don't Order Dog (44 page)

“So they sent
you after my father to find out,” Jeri said flatly, still pointing the gun at him.

“That’s right,” Chip replied. “They asked my superiors at the NSA to put me on his trail, and I unknowingly confirmed everything they feared when I brought those coded financial statements in for analysis.” He shook his head in disgust. “After that, the two principles of the agency were immediately implemented. The truth, not being advantageous, was altered, and a new enemy of the state was created with a few adjustments to my report.”           

Jeri lowered the gun slightly as Chip looked up at her, his pale blue eyes suddenly focused in the dim light of the saloon.

“Your father helped me realize a very unpleasant but necessary truth that night,” he continued, his voice now sharp and commanding. “A government is really no different than any other business, Jeri. It exists to serve a purpose, to fulfill its responsibilities, and to regulate itself in a way that is self-sustaining. In most ways a business is like any living organism. It has a natural urge to grow and become more complex. But as any good biology professor will tell you, as organisms grow and evolve their interests naturally tend to become more self-serving. Eventually this self-serving behavior determines its actions, even when those actions are in direct violation of their very reason for being.”

Chip picked up the glass of scotch and slowly swirled it in his hand.

“The NSA was going to kill your father because he was about to expose our government’s very nasty little self-serving secret. Your father didn’t want to die any more than I wanted to be a part of his killing, which meant our lives as we knew them were both over. I knew we probably had less than twenty-four hours before we were both deemed enemies of the state and hunted down by every agency in Washington.”

“So what did you do?” Jeri asked. She realized the pistol was beginning to feel heavy and shifted it to her other hand.

“You should always hold your gun in the hand you plan to shoot with,” Chip replied matter-of-factly. “You’ll have much better accuracy.”

Jeri impatiently shifted the gun back to her other hand and pointed it at his chest. “Answer my question.”

“We came up with a rather unique idea for getting unwanted attention off of both of us… and it worked. After that, your father and I decided to relocate someplace where no one would be looking for us. Flagstaff seemed as good a choice as any. I used my skills to create new identities for the two of us and we entered the university as graduate students. It didn’t take long for us to blend in and become forgettable. I studied archeology and eventually became a professor, and James
Stone
the reporter became James
Halston
the economist and writer. The rest, as they say, is history.”

Jeri looked at him skeptically.

“Okay, but even if you’re telling the truth, you still haven’t explained everything.” She pointed the pistol at the shrine of letters on the wall. “If you’re really just an old NSA agent turned archeologist, what are you doing with a letter-writing terrorist and that giant thug outside? And if my father was so worried about his identity, why did he publish a book under the name James Stone? And most importantly,” Jeri swung the pistol back at Chip. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

Chip took another drink.

“Well, we don’t have much time, so I’ll be brief. The truth is, Jeri, old habits die hard. A few years after settling into our new lives, your father and I were both getting a little bored. Your father missed being an investigative reporter, and I missed being an agent. So we both decided to get
back into the game
again... at least in some way. Your father decided to prepare for his master’s degree dissertation in macroeconomics by investigating the behaviors of large corporations.

“
He spent several years doing what he did best– interviewing sources inside of large multinational companies and learning everything about their inner workings. Your father was a genius at uncovering information and getting people to talk. Eventually all of that work culminated in the writing of his dissertation, and a year later he wrote
Predictions in the New Business Ecology
.” He smiled and shook his head. “Your father considered his book to be the conclusion and greatest achievement of his ‘former’ life, so he decided to publish it under the name James
Stone
. I have no doubts that his book would have been a bestseller too if he had printed more than a handful of copies. Luckily, I persuaded him not to do that.”  

“Why did you do that?” Jeri asked.

“As I said, your father was brilliant. I don’t think even
he
realized how prophetic his book was when he first asked me to read it. But I did. I also knew it contained the kind of information that could be very useful in the right hands, and very dangerous in the wrong ones. So I convinced him there were better uses for it than sharing it with the world.”

“Like what?”

Chip looked back at her with a stoic face. “Like using it as the blueprint for a new kind of agency.”  

Jeri studied his expression, trying to interpret its meaning.
“And what kind of an agency is that?”

The old
man’s lips curled into a smile. “My kind,” he said before throwing back the last of the scotch. He then pointed at his watch. “I’m afraid my time is up.”

A bright shaft of sunlight suddenly stabbed the room as the front door of the saloon groaned open. Jeri turned and pointed the pistol at the door as a hooded man wearing dark sunglasses and a heavy winter jacket appeared in the entryway. He
immediately stopped and raised his gloved hands. “It’s okay… I’m not armed.”

Jeri looked at the man warily befo
re waving him towards the bar. “Have a seat.”

The man nodded and walked towards the bar. When he reached the body of Tom Coleman, he dropped to his knees and quickly stripped off his gloves before checking for vital signs.

“He’s dead,” Jeri said flatly to the man as he disappeared from her view.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the man replied tersely.

Chip turned on his bar stool and watched silently as the man worked, an odd look of admiration on his face. Jeri shook her head in frustration.

“Chip, who the hell is–”
A violent fit of coughing suddenly echoed through the saloon. Jeri leaned over the counter and stared incredulously at the body of Tom Coleman retching violently on the floor. Hovering over him, the man gently held his shoulder until the coughing subsided. He then produced a small syringe from his pocket and immediately stabbed it into Tom’s shoulder.

“What are you giving him?” Jeri asked warily.

“A mild sedative,” the man mumbled as he tucked the empty syringe back into his pocket. “It’ll keep him asleep and allow his throat to rest. Some things heal better when the mind isn’t in a state of panic.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“Could I have a glass of water, please?” the man asked.

Jeri lowered the pistol and quickly filled a glass with water before pushing it across the bar towards Chip. Chip handed it to the man.

“Thank you,” he replied as he placed the glass on the floor next to Tom.

“No… thank
you
,” Jeri replied, shaking her head. “I thought for sure he was dead.”

“Yeah, well, you’d be amazed how many times I hear that one.”
The man stood and faced Jeri, his handsome, friendly face stretched with a smile. He pulled back the hood of his jacket and ran a hand through his short, curly black hair before leaning against the counter. His dark eyes narrowed with amusement as they stared into hers. “But then, nothing is ever what is seems, is it?”

Jeri stepped back from the counter, too stunned to speak. She immediately knew the face staring back at her. It was the same face that had been maddeningly hidden from view since the first letter and Polaroid photo arrived over two months ago. “It’s you,” she finally whispered, gazing at her
Mysterious Joe’s Last Stand Guy
in disbelief. “You’re
here
.”

“That’s right… I’m here
,” he replied, glancing curiously at Chip. “I just hope I’m not interrupting something.”

“Not at all,” Chip replied, patting him affectionately on the shoulder. “We were just having a little chat. But where are my manners?” He turned and grinned at Jeri. “Jeri I’d like to finally introduce you to the handsome young man standing next to me. Jeri, this is Chilly. Chilly, this lovely young woman is of course Jeri.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jeri.” Chilly said, reaching out his hand.     

Jeri stared back at the man’s outstretched hand barely an arm’s length away and smiled. “It’s nice to meet you too, Chilly,” she replied, slowly raising the pistol and pointing it at his chest.

“Now have a seat.”

“I hope I didn’t travel all this way just to get shot,” Chilly said calmly, glancing at the barrel of the pistol. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to field dress your own bullet wounds?”

“No, I don’t,” Jeri replied, waving the gun at the barstool. “Now sit down.”

Chilly sat down next to Chip and looked over at him dejectedly. “I thought you were going to explain everything to her before I got here.”

“Well, I told her most of it,” Chip replied, shrugging defensively. “Just not the last part. I’m an old man now… my timing isn’t what it used to be.”

“Right, sorry,
” Chilly replied, patting him on the arm. “How about I tell her?”

“Tell me what?” Jeri interjected angrily.

“The best part, of course,” Chilly answered, reaching out his hand. “But first I’m going to need that gun.”

“No chance.”

“Those are my terms. Give me the gun, or we can all just sit here patiently until our other guests arrive. And I can promise you one thing – they’ll have much bigger guns than yours.”

Jeri glanced over at Chip. The older man nodded his head.

“You can trust him, Jeri. He’s with me.”

“That’s exactly why I
don’t
trust him.”

“Jeri, listen to me,” Chip said calmly. “I realize none of this makes any sense right now. But if you believe what I’ve already told you, then you know you can trust me. I once gave up everything I had to save your father’s life. I would hope that’s enough reason to trust me now.”

“You could’ve made that story up for all I know,” Jeri replied sharply. 

“Perh
aps,” the older man responded. “But what if I could prove it? Would you trust me then?”

J
eri looked at him skeptically. “It depends. Where’s your proof?”

Chip pointed at her gun. “You’re holding it.”

Jeri glanced at the gun in her hand before narrowing her eyes on Chip.
“What are you talking about?”

“I gave your father that gun shortly after we arrived in Flagstaff. It was my service arm when I was in the NSA. I was required to know everything about that damn gun
, including the serial number. There’s no way for me to see it from here, but if you look on the right hand side you’ll find it just above the trigger.”

Jeri looked at him suspiciously before turning the pistol towards the light. To her surprise, a seven-digit number was etched into the dark steel where Chip had predicted. She looked at it closely and flashed her eyes at him. “What’s the number?” she asked.

“If I tell you the number correctly, will you give the gun to Chilly?”

She
considered the question for a moment before nodding. “Sure.”

“The serial number is 1-1-3-6-0-8-7.”

Jeri looked at Chip with astonishment.

“You see,” he replied. “E
verything I’ve said to you is true, Jeri. Your father was my friend. He trusted me with his life.” Chip reached his hand out for the gun. “And now I’m asking you to do the same.”  

Jeri looked at both men as her heart pounded loudly in her chest. She slowly stepped forward and placed the gun on the counter. Her hand had barely let go before Chilly picked up the pistol and ejected the magazine in one practiced stroke. He looked up at her with surprise.

“It wasn’t even loaded.”

Jeri locked eyes with the handsome, thirty-something man she’d wondered about for the last several months and
shook her head. “No, it wasn’t,” she replied. 

“Impressive bluff,” Chilly said quietly as he looked over at Chip.
“I’d say she’s ready.”

The older man nodded in agreement. “Me too.”

“Ready for what?” Jeri demanded.

“To meet the others
,” Chip answered enthusiastically.

As if on cue, the front door opened and two men wearing the uniforms of the local power company appeared in the doorway. Behind them, the massive bulk of the man called Max followed them into the saloon before closing and locking the door. He then reached over and switched off the hanging neon sign in the window that read “Open” before snapping the wooden blinds shut. 

“Allow me to introduce everyone,” Chip said as the three men walked over to the bar and sat down. “This is Dublin,” he said, gesturing to a short, pudgy man with a patchy beard sitting next to Chilly. Dublin smiled and nodded. “This is Tall Tommy,” he continued, pointing to a tall, physically perfect blonde-haired man next to Dublin. Tall Tommy pulled a pair of small earphones from his ears and mumbled a quick greeting. “Of course, you’ve already met Max,” Chip said, pointing to the huge man sitting at the end. Max smiled warmly and waved a large, paw-like hand at Jeri.

Jeri nodded silently at the three men before turning to Chilly.
“So… what were you going to tell me?”

Chilly leaned forward against the bar and gave her a smile. “Before I tell you, would you mind pouring me a shot of tequila? It’s been a long week.”

Jeri looked at him warily before tilting her head. “Let me guess. Fortaleza?”

“Perfect.”

She turned to pour his drink. “By the way,” she said as she grabbed the bottle of tequila, “I’m curious to know something. Why did you always end your letters with the statement ‘don’t order do–”

Jeri suddenly gasped at a sharp sting in her neck. She immediately reached back and felt a small cylindrical object sticking out from the skin just above her shoulders. Confused, she pulled it out and examined it br
iefly before spinning around to see Chilly tucking a small pistol back into his pocket.

“What did you just give me?” she demanded, flinging the small tranquilizer dart at him angrily.

“Vecuronium bromide,” Chilly answered somberly. “It’s a fast-acting paralyzing agent. I’m sorry Jeri. I promise I’ll never do anything like this to you again.”

“Again?” Jeri replied, her voice a horrified whisper.
“Why did you do it in the first place?”

“You have something we need
,” Chilly said matter-of-factly. “Just as we have something you need.” He glanced over at Max. “Max, would you please catch Jeri before she falls and hurts herself?” 

Jeri watched as the huge man immediately rose from his stool and started walking down the bar towards her. She could already feel a strange numbness trickling through her body.
Stay calm
she told herself, looking around wildly. A few yards away, Max ducked under the counter and emerged on her side, his massive frame barely fitting within the cramped space. Jeri knew that even under the best circumstances she wouldn’t be able to get past him. She stepped forward and feigned an attempt to go around him before throwing herself clumsily onto the bar next to Chip. Evading the older man’s grasp, Jeri then slipped over the counter and fell hard onto the floor. She tried desperately to make her now lifeless legs respond to her command to stand and run, but it was useless. Not about to give up, she immediately flung herself forward onto her elbows and began crawling towards the door. Behind her, Chip’s voice called out plaintively.

“Jeri
, please… don’t fight it.”

Jeri ignored him, grunting in effort as she slowly dragged herself forward. Seconds later, the numbness swept through her shoulders and crept mercilessly down her arms. She tried doubling her efforts but her body simply stal
led and stopped. After one last desperate try, she sighed loudly and collapsed onto the floor. 

Behind her, the old wooden floor creaked softly as someone walked towards her. She felt him kneel down beside her, his hand gently brushing
away the hair on her neck before checking her pulse. “It’s going to be okay, Jeri,” Chilly’s baritone voice said calmly. Out of the corner of her eye Jeri saw the flash of a small syringe and needle. A moment later, a calming warmth began to circulate through her body. Her panic evaporated as an overpowering feeling of drowsiness blurred her senses. As she drifted out of consciousness, Chilly’s final words echoed through her mind.

The first act of your new life, Jeri,
is to completely kill your old one.