Echoes From the Moon (The Token Book One), page 28
Waylen couldn’t give the Delta up, no matter what his superiors commanded of him. He got on his phone and searched for a short-term rental in Brooklyn. After creating a new profile, he paid with an app not linked to his name.
The three remained in the same room he’d left them, looking somber. “I know you all want to go home, but it’s not over yet.”
2
“You aren’t staying?” Arthur asked Silas.
“We rented a place, but I can’t tell you where it is,” Silas told his father.
“That doesn’t sound safe.”
“No kidding, but we have to talk it through. Dad, I’m sorry the funeral was all messed up.”
Arthur squeezed his shoulder. “None of this is your fault. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I let you stay at Peter’s house on the lake and forgot about his little secret.”
He peered into the living room, where Rory’s parents sat drinking wine with his mom. It was strange to see the Swansons in their family home, but everyone seemed comfortable enough. “Thanks for letting them crash for the night,” he said.
“Our pleasure. It’ll be nice to catch up.”
“How’s Clare?” Silas asked.
“Sleeping it off. The kids are with her in her old room.”
“Good.”
Silas saw the three squad cars parked around their corner lot. “You’ll be the talk of the town.”
Arthur smiled. “I’ve been meaning to create some neighborhood gossip. It was this, or I refuse to decorate for Christmas.”
Rory kissed her mom’s cheek and embraced her dad before coming to the exit. “We’ll see you soon, Mr. Gunn.”
“Please, call me Arthur.”
Rory passed by Silas, heading to Waylen’s car.
“Rory’s nice,” his dad said.
“Yeah, she is.”
“Pleasant on the eyes too, isn’t she, son?”
“Dad…”
“All I’m saying is your mother and I want you to—”
“Not now,” Silas said. “I have enough to think about, and my parents meddling with my love life isn’t one of them.”
“Love is often found in the face of adversity,” Arthur told him.
“Is that a quote?”
“I think I read it in a fortune cookie.”
Silas waved at Rory’s parents, then said goodbye to his mother in the kitchen as she opened another bottle of wine. Her cheeks were damp, and she dabbed them with a dish towel. “Be careful, Silas.”
“I will.”
He strode to the car and took the backseat beside Rory, while Cody stayed in the front. Waylen rolled up to the nearest police sentry and talked momentarily before driving off. Silas watched the house shrink through the rear window, and saw his dad’s silhouette in the living room.
“Is this necessary?” he asked Waylen. “We have the police protecting my parents’ house. Shouldn’t we stay?”
“He knows the Delta is together, and in the city somewhere,” Waylen said.
“Then give it up. Call your boss or ship it overnight to another address.” Silas thought his options were sound.
“Not until we know what it does. Why is a weapons manufacturer killing for this damned thing?” Waylen signaled, heading to the Grand Central Parkway leading to Brooklyn.
“I already told you. It’s a portal,” Cody said.
“To where?” Rory’s voice was quiet.
“To the Moon, for one,” Silas answered.
“And the third token?” Rory asked. “Where did it bring you, Cody?”
“You’ll have to see for yourself.” Cody craned his neck, grinning at them. He’d mentioned it earlier, but his description was vague at best.
Rory was on her phone, the glow brightening her face. Outside, the sky was dark, the streetlights barely illuminating the cloud-covered night. Trees rattled and shook with a gusty breeze while Silas watched the road.
“Find anything?” Waylen asked her.
“There’s next to nothing about Planetae Inc. online.”
“They’re probably paying good money for that,” Waylen said.
“Don’t most companies want exposure?”
“Not in that industry. It’s all top-secret stuff,” Cody answered, as though he understood the business.
“What is Planetae anyway?” Silas asked.
“Latin for planet,” Rory said. “Planetae protects the world.”
“What do you think that means?” Waylen slowed and pulled over on the cramped Brooklyn street.
“Maybe they literally mean just that?” Cody asked.
“From what?” Silas countered.
“Someone outside of Earth.”
“Aliens? Leo Monroe is running an anti-alien defense corporation?”
“It’s possible.” Cody rolled his window down, letting in fresh air. “Where is the place?”
“221,” Waylen told them. “Anyone see it?”
“There, three down.” Silas pointed between the two front seats to the right. In the darkness, it was difficult to read the house numbers. The streetlights were dim, the kind of yellowy-orange that showed next to no color in its glow. Most of the homes didn’t have driveways, or if they did, they were located in a rear alley. Waylen pulled up half a block and backed in, parallel parking with ease.
The four of them exited the car, bringing whatever luggage they had with them. They must have looked suspicious, but from what Silas could tell, no one was watching. Silas glanced as a doorbell camera blinked on, recording their passage.
Waylen grabbed his phone and used the lockbox on the handle. This home didn’t have security, at least none that was obviously visible. Silas lingered, checking over his shoulder, then entered, noticing the faint odor of patchouli lingering in the air.
“It asks that we remove our shoes,” Waylen said.
Cody’s were already off, and he stalked into the small living space with his socks. Silas did the same, and Rory neatly set hers on an empty rack.
“Can you tell me why we’re staying here?” Silas asked.
“Because …” Waylen’s hand rested on his holstered side piece, and he crossed into the kitchen, checking the back door to find it locked.
“They won’t know where you are,” Rory said.
“That’s the idea.”
Silas thought about the doorbell camera and wondered how inventive this leader of Planetae was. Rory flicked the lamp on, and Cody was already seated, activating the gas fireplace with the press of a switch. The pilot ignited, and the flames lifted behind the glass casing.
“Give me a minute,” Waylen said, trucking his bag to the second story. He turned and called down, “May as well claim your bed for the night.”
Silas grinned at Rory and realized they’d all be separating tomorrow. Cody would head to San Diego, which wasn’t an enormous loss, considering they barely knew him. Rory would go to Woodstock with her parents. And Silas… he wasn’t sure what to do, but working in the furniture business felt like a waste of his energy now that he’d discovered the Delta. How could he return to mundane spreadsheets when there were actual worlds to explore? He wasn’t positive these artifacts did anything but offer an echo from the past.
Rory went ahead of him, and Silas followed along, noticing Cody on the couch. “You coming?”
“Nah, I’ll stay here.” He patted the cushion. “I prefer to be close to the exit.”
The stairs creaked under Silas’ weight, and he spotted chips in the paint and dents in the plaster. It was rare to see an old Brooklyn house in pristine shape, given the age, particularly when they were rented out by the night. For a moment, Silas pondered if he’d own a home someday; maybe not in New York, though. He watched Rory checking the bedrooms and questioned if she was happy living in Vermont with her parents.
His family still had the house in Loon Lake, but could he settle in the place where Grandpa Gunn had been shot?
“I’ll take this one.” Rory tossed her bag to the bed. That left a room for Silas, with a double bed and a nightstand with a colorful lamp.
When they went downstairs, Cody was up, putting his shoes back on.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Waylen asked.
“I saw a corner store a couple of blocks away. I can’t live here until the morning without snacks.”
Waylen reached for his footwear. “You’re not going alone.”
“You stay,” Silas said. “With the Delta. Better to keep it behind a lock.”
“Any requests?” Cody asked.
Silas made a mental note of Rory and Waylen’s orders. They’d skipped dinner, none of them willing to eat after the stress of the day, but after the adrenaline faded, Silas found himself ravenous. “Where was it?”
Cody started north. “Not far.”
Silas only saw a few cars as they went, taking long strides. Cody walked with purpose, and Silas appreciated the pace. “You could be a New Yorker, you know that?”
Cody laughed and kept moving. “Nah, I prefer the beach.”
“We have beaches,” Silas said.
“Sure.” Cody gestured at the end of the block, where, as promised, there stood a twenty-four-hour store. They entered, a digital chime ringing to announce their arrival. Silas saw the TV and went up to the counter.
“…gunned down on Madison. It’s the sixth officer-related shooting this month, and the citizens of New York deserve answers…” The man being interviewed was agitated, and a crowd gathered behind him with protest signs in Times Square.
“You hear about this?” the old guy behind the counter asked. “Right in the middle of the day. What’s happened to our city?”
Silas shrugged, not willing to discuss the incident. Cody had his arms full of chips and pretzels and balanced a six-pack of soda on top. Silas grabbed some beers and found a few microwavable dinners that didn’t look freezer burned.
He doubled up on bags, making sure they didn’t lose their supplies on the short trip. The TV continued to reference Peter Gunn’s funeral, implying the city was on edge.
“You flying home tomorrow?” he asked Cody, to make conversation.
“What choice do I have? I was thrown into a trunk and left for dead. Plus, Waylen confiscated my piece of the Delta. This wasn’t what I anticipated when I came to New York,” Cody said.
“You expected to take them to California?”
“No, but… I want to use it.”
“To go to the Moon.” Silas failed to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
“And elsewhere,” Cody added.
“And how are you planning on making that happen? How will you breathe?”
“I have a solution,” Cody said.
“Really?” Silas paused, noticing a shadowed figure behind the steering wheel of a sedan a short distance away. They were facing the opposite direction. He grabbed Cody, dragging him behind a tree for cover.
“What…”
Silas set the bags to the grass and put a finger to his lips. The individual observed the houses on the block and peered around, as if searching for something.
The house they were staying in was five down, light casting by the drawn drapes. He snatched the snacks, then cut into the alley between two homes. Cody trailed behind him, moving much more loudly.
“They could be waiting for someone,” Cody whispered. “Maybe it’s an Uber.”
“I didn’t see the sticker.”
“It’s dark, and we were on the opposite side of the car.”
Silas crept on, coming through the passageway. The small yard was fenced, and he flipped the latch, swinging the gate inwards. He must have tripped a motion sensor, because a bright beam flashed over the yard. Silas hurried up the steps to the compact wooden deck and hoped it held their combined weight. An old barbecue leaned on the railing, and he could smell grease.
Silas knocked gently, then louder, after no one let them in. Finally, Waylen gazed between the curtains with his gun drawn.
Waylen held the door open. “What are you two doing crawling in the back?”
“I think we’re being watched,” Silas said.
“What?” Waylen looked up, and the light flicked off.
Silas went to the living room, unplugged the lamp, and motioned to the street. “Sedan, five down.”
Waylen squinted as he peeked past the drapes. “I see someone.” His cell buzzed, and he frowned when he read the message.
“What is it?” Rory asked.
“My partner just texted me.” He flipped it around, showing them.
Hey, Brooks, I’m in New York for the case. You up?
Silas glanced outside, where the figure in the sedan held a phone. “What’s your partner doing here?”
3
Waylen had to read the text twice. “It might be unrelated. Everyone’s on their phones.” His fingers hovered above the keyboard. This wasn’t possible. Martina Sanchez was his rock, his foundation with the Bureau. Without her, he’d have sunken into paperwork purgatory during his tenure as an agent. She’d kept him moving, pushing him to be better. She’d been recruited under his guidance, and there wasn’t an ounce of Waylen that believed she’d betray him.
He pictured her at the airport, the touch of her hands, the kiss that could have meant ‘goodbye’ or maybe ‘I’m sorry.’ Waylen took a deep inhale and confirmed. Where have you been? I couldn’t reach you.
Waylen surveyed the parked car and recognized the moment the message arrived. Either it was her, or someone had her phone. He used his own camera, filming the person surveilling them, and zoomed. It was grainy, but he’d recognize her dark, wavy hair anywhere. “Damn it.”
“She’s been bought off,” Cody said, opening a bag of chips.
“Would you put those away?” Waylen snapped. “Think…”
Martina was in town and watching him from outside. He hefted his cell, sure now that she’d tracked him by its GPS. Clearly, it didn’t pinpoint his precise location, but she’d gotten very close. It wouldn’t take her long to figure out which house he was in if she flashed her credentials and started knocking on doors. The first resident would confirm which place on the block was an online rental property.
Waylen glanced at the corner of the window, seeing the TRUSTED HOME sticker from the company he’d used. If she saw it…
“I have to draw her out,” he said. “Then talk sense into her.”
“She knows you’re on this street.” Rory wrung her hands nervously. “Why can’t this be done with?”
Silas perked up. “There’s a place for sale nearby. The sign’s in the front yard. It looked empty to me. Dark, with a realtor box on the handle. It could be rented too. Like the owners were subsidizing it while waiting for it to be sold.”
Waylen nodded. “What’s the house number?”
Cody crunched on a potato chip. “That would be 213.”
Been busy. Where are you staying?
Waylen prickled at the comment. He prepped the message, using 213, and removed the Delta from his pocket, handing it to Silas. “There’s another gun in my room. Go take it.”
Silas didn’t look confident.
“This is important. I have to find a way to make this Leo stop sending people to kill you, but right now, you need to trust me.” Waylen nodded at Silas. “Go upstairs, lock the door, and keep my gun ready. Got it?”
He felt terrible, given the fact Rory had already killed a man, and Silas was recovering from his flesh wound, but there wasn’t much of a choice. Assistant Director Ben’s orders for him to leave the civilians out of it parroted in his mind, but he lacked the time to come up with a better plan.
“Be careful,” Rory said before jogging up the steps.
Waylen waited until he heard the door shut, and went through the kitchen, down the rear porch, and past the fence. He stopped at the home for sale, and hit send on his text.
Her reply was instantaneous. I’m in the area. See you soon.
Waylen jumped the fence, hiding in 215’s yard. The residents were watching a late-night talk show, which was all about the incident from Gunn’s funeral. How quickly someone’s tragedy became a punchline in Hollywood.
The sedan’s door opened, and Special Agent Martina Sanchez emerged. Did she have backup? More likely, she planned on surprising him and taking the Delta for herself. He couldn’t believe someone had gotten to her.
She eyed the realtor’s sign and paused, double-checking her cell. Martina didn’t go straight for the front door. She circled to the side yard and tested the gate. Waylen was only a few feet from her, secured in the neighboring lot. He tried the gate latch, which was thankfully unlocked. Martina had continued on, and he rounded the corner, finding her peering through a window.
Waylen’s faith in humanity had already been challenged countless times over his years on the force, then with the Bureau, but to see Martina skulking in the dark sealed it.
He held the gun, aiming it at her. “Why would you do this?”
Martina jumped, nearly hitting her head on the window’s shutter. “Brooks…”
“Don’t.” She reached into her jacket, and he waved the barrel slightly. “I’m not messing around, Martina.”
She pulled out a piece of paper. “I have a message for you.”
Waylen frowned and took a single step closer. He could smell her perfume on the breeze, and almost lowered his weapon. “Did you expect I’d give it up? Or were you sent to kill me?”
“Neither,” she said. “I swear, Waylen, I would never—”
“Save it. Be honest. When did he contact you?”
Her posture slumped, as if someone had cut her puppet strings. “When I started the other case.”
“How?”
“He called the landline in the field office. They patched it through, and he told me how dangerous the artifact was in the wild.”
“He’s killed people, Martina.”
“You understand nothing,” she said.
“Then explain it to me.”
She peered around. “Can we go inside?”
“No.”
“Waylen, I want to help.”
“By lying?”
Waylen heard a car door close somewhere down the block, and imagined more armed contractors stalking around the nearby homes.
