14

Bryce chuckled to himself. What an idiot Clyde was. He was as stupid as he was ugly. Not only did he not restrain Bryce, but he also didn’t think to strip him of his cell phone, which had been on the entire time. Bryce used it now to call his security detail. They could pick him up, no problem. There was a GPS tracker on the phone, which was a good thing since Bryce had no idea where he was, just some country road in the boonies, they all looked the same after a while. He swatted at a deer fly. The sooner he got back to the Windy City the better.

The sound of multiple cars speeding down a nearby gravel road caught his attention. Wow, that was fast. How did they find him already? They must have sent local law enforcement to pick him up. No matter, just as well. He needed a restroom and after that some water, and some food. A good night’s sleep sounded good too.

The cars reached him, three government-issue sedans total. It sure looked like secret service detail. But how did they reach him so fast? It had only been about five minutes. Four car doors opened simultaneously: one hulk of a man each from two of the vehicles, and two bureaucratic looking individuals, one male and one female, from the third vehicle.

“Hey guys, how did you get here so fast?” Bryce smiled full wattage, his social smile, not a trace of wolf. He was taken aback when no one responded. One of the beefy men yanked his right arm, another grabbed his left. They steered him toward the nearest sedan. “Hey! What’s going on?” Bryce protested. No one answered. “You’re taking me to the President? You are, right?”

“Yes, she’s waiting for you,” said the female bureaucrat.

“She?” Bryce hoped he had heard wrong.

“President Kinji. She’s waiting for you. Get in the car.”

The convoy, with Bryce pouting in the backseat of one of the sedans, made its way to its next pick-up, about four miles away. Their tires crunched on a long gravel road and then rolled to a stop. Doors opened and shut. The driver of the sedan carrying Bryce did not get out.

“Where are we?” asked Bryce.

The driver looked at Bryce through the mirror but said nothing.

“What is this place?” he tried again.

Still no answer.

“Hey! I know them! What is going on?” Bryce tapped on his window. “Open this up!”

The driver ignored Bryce. Bryce was forced to watch silently from his backseat point of view as four familiar figures were escorted to the other two vehicles. Clyde, his flesh wound bandaged and his arm in a sling, and Paul were led to the sedan behind the vehicle holding Bryce. Serena and Tom, stripped of his gun, which was bagged and tagged, were led to the sedan in front of him. Bryce couldn’t hear what they were saying. Completely baffled, he tried to puzzle out what was happening.

Serena spoke to the female bureaucrat, Nancy. “Our kids are still in the car.”

“No, they are already with us. They’re fine,” said Nancy.

“Where are they?” asked Tom.

“We’re right here,” called Carrie, leaning out the open door of the sleek government vehicle.

“Please get in,” said Nancy, gesturing to the generous seating space that her children occupied. Nonetheless, five people made the backseat uncomfortable. No one dared to complain though. After the Meadows were settled in, Nancy shut the door to the backseat, walked to the front passenger’s side door, and got in.

“You aren’t the police. FBI?” asked Tom.

“No. We are President Kinji’s detail,” said Nancy.

Her partner Rick started the vehicle and pulled away, leading the convoy of three. “Where are we going?” asked Serena.

Nancy exchanged a look with Rick, who returned her question with a shrug. Nancy hesitated, but then answered Serena’s question, “Chicago.”

“Chicago!” Serena exclaimed.

“Isn’t that a whole day’s drive? I need to go to the restroom,” said Carrie.

“Do you need to make a rest stop now?” asked Nancy.

“YES!” said the kids and Tom in unison.

“Why are we going to Chicago?” asked Serena.

“President Kinji wants to see you.”

“We get to meet the President!” Carrie said. More quietly, addressed to her family, she said, “Had I known, I would have worn something else today.”

“Why does she want to see us?” asked Samuel, who had been quiet during all of the excitement. All three kids had kept themselves nearly invisible, but they heard everything that happened within their earshot, and hung on every word. Earbuds or no, when something exciting was happening, they managed to listen.

Nancy shut down the conversation with a firm, “You’ll have to ask her that. I am not authorized to brief you. We’ll be stopping shortly for a quick restroom break.” With that, she pressed the divider button. The Meadows were alone in the backseat, where they quickly took up chatting. The past few harrowing days had renewed their appreciation for each other and suddenly they all had so much to say.

It was far from happy family chatter in the sedan carrying the two brothers. Clyde was seething. “We need a plan,” he hissed.

Paul recoiled from Clyde’s breath. He couldn’t quite define the stench. It was a revolting mix of garlic, coffee, and long-trapped odors from years of plaque build-up, Clyde’s own special blend. “I don’t know what we can do, Clyde. We might as well hope for the best. At least they aren’t taking us to John. Kinji might have a heart and put us in witness relocation.”

“Where they will find us and kill us, you know that. At their level, they can ferret out witnesses, protected or not.”

“I don’t see any solution. I also doubt we’re having a private conversation right now.”

Clyde snickered. “Of course we aren’t, they’re listening to everything we say.”

“Then I don’t know what you expect to plan.”

“You’re right, we might as well admit defeat,” said Clyde. Then he slyly winked at Paul and said, “Just like when we were kids and we were losing at kickball against the Keller kids.”

Paul nodded, aware of where Clyde was going with this, and hoping he remembered their secret language. “Yes, who could forget Groin Or Toe Injuries Too?”

Clyde smiled approvingly. Paul did remember: invent a sentence that, when taking the first letter of each word, spells a phrase. Paul had said, “Got it.” Just like when they were kids. The code was easier to speak and comprehend with practice, and being brothers, they could practically read each other’s minds anyway, so it was easier for them to follow than it would be for most people.

Clyde said, “How Are Children Kickball Enthusiasts? Really Stupid.” He felt in his pocket for his cell phone. Yes, there it was, all charged up and everything. Yes, they would know he had used the phone, but it would take them awhile to puzzle out what he used it for. He sent a quick text to one of the kids on his team, the new kid, who wasn’t listed on the roster yet. “Activate Clyde. Urgent.”

Clyde put his hand behind his back, feigning to massage a painful lower back, while discretely slipping his thumb under the waistband of his jeans until he could feel the elastic band of his briefs. Yes, it was still there: a tiny microphone. Obviously this could be problematic if Clyde had intestinal problems, but it was a good solution to the problem of: what if they forced him to strip down? He figured they were unlikely to make him take off his underwear. He knew Nick would have it up and running before they reached Kinji’s office.

“Wacky Happy Youth,” said Paul.

Clyde, struggling to come up with a word for each letter, stumbled through the next few sentences at an agonizingly slow pace: “People Let All Youth, Alone. Now Nobody, Just Opens Homes. Neighbors, All Get Annoyed -- Is Never Safe To, Ever Allow Children Home, Outside Their Homes. Everyone’s Reality.”

Paul traced the beginning letters on his hand until he could piece together what Clyde was saying: Play Ann, John against each other. He nodded, ending their tedious conversation. He stared at the divider wall between their seats and the ones occupied by the Muscle. Were they listening? Probably. Paul’s mind raced. Clyde’s plan was idealistic: he assumed they would be released, free to put the plan in motion. Bring the recordings to both political camps, work a deal.

But Paul had his doubts that either of them would ever be free men. He didn’t expect to be alive much longer either. But what was reality to Clyde? Paul’s heart sank the more he realized that Clyde had always been crazy, he simply hadn’t seen it. He had been caught up in Clyde’s plans and schemes for his entire life – could Paul have lived a normal upstanding life had it not been for being raised by an insane brother? Sadly, he would never know the answer. Nor would he have an opportunity to live his life differently.

While Clyde plotted and planned his next move, and Paul sulked, Kinji’s surveillance team back in Chicago was cracking up, having figured out the brother’s secret code in a matter of seconds. One man laughed so hard that he shot water out of his nose. “We can’t make this stuff up,” he said, after he recovered.

“I thought they’d break into Klingon,” said another.

“Should we send this to Morey in Encrypton?”

“Only if you want your head snapped off.”

“Seriously though,” said a third, “What do you think they meant by ‘play Ann and John against each other’? What are they up to?”

“Doesn’t matter,” said the first. “They won’t be going anywhere.”

“It’s not like President Kinji is going to waterboard them. There’s nothing to hide.”

“John has reason to fear a bug.”

“Doesn’t matter, they won’t see him.”

“Yes, they will. He’ll be there.”

“Seriously? What’s going down?”

“I don’t know. We share the building, it’s not that surprising.”

“I hope he rots.”

“Think these two idiots have something on him?”

“Maybe. If they do, we’ll be the first to hear it.”

The team continued to monitor the activity in the three sedans, analyzing the feed the mobile team was uploading to them; there wasn’t anything else that caught their attention. The Meadow’s family was still chatting, but none of what they were saying was of interest to the team. Bryce was silent, as were Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, who the team had dubbed “The Double D’s”, for Dee and Dum, or “Dumb and Dumber”. The rest of the journey went by uneventfully for both the team and the eight passengers they were keeping an ear to.

When the sedans slowed to circle the post-Big-War White House, in the queue to enter the three-mile descent to the underground secured parking area, Serena thought to ask about the third sedan. She had seen Clyde and Paul enter the second vehicle, but what about the third? She knocked on the divider window.

Nancy responded right away with an open window and an invitation, “Yes?”

“Who is in that third car?” asked Serena.

“Not sure you’d know him, but you can see for yourself, he’s getting out,” said Nancy.

As their own vehicle came to a stop, the other two sedans pulled up alongside them, flanking their car. Paul and Clyde were in the car on their right, so Serena and Tom kept their attention focused on their left, waiting to see who would emerge. They saw the top of his head first, a familiar blond wave, that ridiculous surfer-Prince Charming-frat boy look. Could it be? No, surely not. But it was.

“Why is Bryce here?” asked Serena, panic in her voice.

Nancy’s tone revealed nothing. “That’s Bryce Otto, one of President William’s staff. I don’t know why he’s here.”

“Otto is his last name,” muttered Tom.

“Please get out of the car,” said the driver of their sedan.

The other two sedans were now empty. The Meadows were slow to get out of the vehicle. “Where are we going?” asked Tom. He and Serena did not move. The three kids looked at their parents for guidance. Rick held the door open for them, but the family didn’t budge, unsure of what to do.

“You are not in any trouble, Ma’am, the President just wants to speak with you,” said Rick.

“Please come with us now, “ said Nancy.

Tom and Serena exited the backseat, taking hold of their children’s hands, even though Carrie was a young adult. The five of them looked ready to break into a musical number as they walked hand-in-hand into the White House. It was only after they had been walking down one corridor after another for several minutes that they relaxed enough to release their grip.

The unlikely procession was headed up by Nancy and the Meadows family, followed by Rick escorting Paul, Clyde, and Bryce. The massive drivers of the other two vehicles brought up the rear, sporting ear pieces and ready to tackle anyone who looked at them wrong. They trudged along silently, all of them brooding over what would happen next.