Blue Hope: (Book 2) (Red Hope) Page 19
“Adam!” Chris said, after dialing up the cellphone of Adam Alston who’d just finished giving a speech in San Francisco.
“Hi, Chris,” Adam said with some skepticism. “Long time, no talk.”
“I agree. Look, I have a special favor to ask. I'm putting together a bit of a rogue mission to the interior of Africa to look for, how do I say this, the Martian laboratory.”
“Ha,” Adam laughed. “I think you've got the wrong place. I've heard it's in the Tonga Trench.”
“Man, how does everybody seem to know that?” Chris asked. “Anyway, let's just say we have reason to believe that the previously published information is wrong.”
“Really,” Adam said with some curiosity in his voice.
“Yes, really.”
“I'll be honest, Chris. My exciting days are over. I'm on a tight speaking schedule right now. I just finished giving a talk in San Francisco. I'm flattered by the offer, but...”
CHAPTER 43
Technology Innovation Center & Hotel
San Francisco, California
(9:45pm)
“...I'm just not interested right now. Thank you, though. Good night, Chris.”
Adam hung up the phone and pulled his jacket tight around him. He was standing outside the lobby on a deck overlooking the San Francisco bay. He could clearly see the Bay Bridge to the east. He shivered from the cold weather. Adam was surprised at how much colder San Francisco was compared to the training facility that NASA had built in Watsonville the year before, just down the freeway and over the Santa Cruz mountains.
Adam went back into the big reception hall where he had been sitting before Chris called. He sat down at the table in between a large stack of books and magazines. The book was his old Space Shuttle book — he'd renamed it “My Life On The Space Shuttle Before Mars” to help tie together his two accomplishments in life. The real reason for the new title was to finally get it off of Amazon's “worst-seller” list. Under the old name, it had been a dud for years. The magazine stack was a huge order of his special edition of Popular Mechanics where his face graced the cover. His manager, Oliver, had made sure to have a stack of both at every speaking event. Adam was charging an arm and a leg to sign them for audience members after the speeches. His self-deprecating humor would sometimes go too far when he'd joke about the book being worth less after he signed it, but with sales on eBay as proof, nothing could be further from the truth.
The previous evening he’d sold almost two hundred copies of the book. Tonight, being surrounded by wealthy tech titans from the Silicon Valley area, he'd already sold double that. Due to the location and audience demographic, his payday for tonight would surpass the four-hundred thousand dollar mark. The numbers still boggled his mind.
Attendees stood in line in their tuxedo's and little black dresses, holding glasses of wine and talking about important subjects. What was the most durable interior choice for their new business jet? What color Ferrari was least likely to be pulled over by the police. And when was it time to trade up from that Ferrari to a McLaren? Decisions, decisions.
By midnight, Adam was pretty exhausted. His hand was cramped. He flexed his fist in between signings.
A woman with blonde hair, pulled back in a ponytail, was last in line. She held her shoes in her left hand, tired of standing in high heels.
“Hi, Captain Alston,” she said brightly. “Your speech tonight was invigorating.”
His tired eyes looked upward at her.
“Well, thank you. Thanks for coming out tonight. Now, who do I make this out to?”
The woman held the book open to the front page.
“Wilhelmina.”
Adam laughed at first, but then paused.
“Wilhelmina?” he asked with skepticism.
“Yes,” she said with a smile. “It’s an old family name.
“Okay...” Adam said and began to scribble. “To Wilhelmina, my wonderful friend here in the city by the bay.”
“Thanks,” she said as she winked.
Adam leaned over to pick up a new book. His tall stack had been whittled down to just five remaining copies. As he popped back up to the table, Wilhelmina was gone, but there was a room keycard on the desk in front of him with 614 written on it with a Sharpie.
Adam picked up the keycard, furrowing his brow in contemplation.
Ten minutes later, an exhausted Adam found himself knocking on the door of a hotel room.
“Just a minute,” a woman’s voice from inside said.
The door opened and Wilhelmina was standing there with her hair no longer in a ponytail.
And nothing else.
Adam laughed nervously. “I'm afraid you accidentally left this downstairs and I wanted to return it.”
Wilhelmina smiled coyly back at him.
“Oh captain, my captain,” she said. “That was no accident.”
Adam gulped.
CHAPTER 44
Alston family home
Fort Worth, Texas
(Three hours later, 3:45am)
Connie's eyes jolted open. The sound of glass breaking triggered her heart rate into overdrive. She rolled out of bed, crept toward the armoire and swung open the doors. Connie reached through the dangling clothes and grabbed the old shotgun they kept around and assumed they'd never use.
Why wasn't the alarm triggered?, Connie thought.
She heard more glass breaking and some crunching sounds near the kids’ bedrooms — some deep voices, too.
The Alston’s had been paying monthly alarm fees for seven years and now that she needed the alarm, it failed.
Connie eased out of the bedroom and into the long central hallway. She heard some noises of struggling. A body came running toward her in the dark.
Connie held the shotgun up.
The approaching body walked by the glow of a nightlight. Connie let out a sigh of relief. It was Catie.
“Shhhh....,” Connie whispered. “Go in my bedroom and hide in the closet.”
Catie walked behind her Mom and disappeared into the bedroom.
Connie walked quickly but quietly down the hallway toward Cody's bedroom. She peered around the corner and saw two burglars trying to coax her son out from under his bed. They wore all black. One held a tire-iron and the other had a roll of duct tape.
“Come here you little brat!” they whispered loudly.
Connie's trembling hand reached toward the light switch and she flipped it on. The two kidnappers turned toward her with a look of shock on their faces.
“Get her!” yelled the one holding duct tape.
Connie’s mama bear instincts kicked in. She pointed the shotgun and pulled the trigger. The blast filled the room with sparks and smoke as the man flew backwards, knocking over the duct-tape man. He, in turn, hopped up and tried to jump through the window.
BOOM!
Connie's second shot hit him in the back and he laid slumped over the window opening, his belly pierced by several pieces of window glass.
Connie stood trembling at the sight of the two dead men in her child's bedroom.
“Mommy?” came a voice from under the bed.
“Come on out, Cody. Watch out for the broken glass.”
And blood, she thought.
A hand fell on her shoulder.
“Hey, lady,” a strange voice said from behind her.
Connie whipped around to see a third man, standing right behind her. He raised his hand — it held a big wrench. She tried to get the shotgun around, but the barrel hit the doorway.
Swinging from out of the darkness beside the man, a baseball bat hit him in the back of his knees and he fell down. Connie finally got the gun pointed at him and she shot him in the belly. He flew back into the hallway. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her daughter Catie holding a baseball bat.
“Oh my sweetheart,” she said, hugging her daughter. Catie was crying uncontrollably.
Cody came up beside her.
Connie grabbed her cellphone a
nd they all ran to the master closet. She dialed 911.
“Nine one one — please state your emergency.”
“We've had a break-in. Three big guys. I shot them.”
Connie was trying to hug her kids and talk at the same time.
“Ma'am, are you injured?”
“I don’t think so, but I don't know if there are any others, though.”
“Okay, ma'am, we've already had reports of gunshots just about a minute ago and our officers are on their way.”
“Thank you, thank you,” Connie said through tears.
The police arrived quickly along with several ambulances. The neighborhood lit up like Christmas. The police sat down with Connie and she gave them the details. The police told her that the alarms didn't go off because the kidnappers didn't open any windows — no sensors were tripped.
“My husband said he was going to get the glass breakage sensors installed,” Connie said.
“Those might’ve helped,” said the officer. “But sometimes they’re more trouble than they’re worth.”
Connie opened her cellphone and looked through the recent calls list. She skipped over her husband's phone number and found Chris Tankovitch's number. It was early in the morning, before sunrise, but she called him.
“Hello?” Chris asked in a groggy tone.
“Hey, it's me, Connie,” she said. “Our house got broken into tonight.”
“Oh no, Connie. Are you okay?”
“I'm okay, but Chris, it's been terrible. The kids saw a lot of bad stuff.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. I told Adam he needed to get you out of that neighborhood. Whether he wants to admit it or not, you're famous now and that requires extra costs.”
“Well, we've always liked it here.”
“Doesn't matter. You're rich and famous now. You need rich and famous neighbors. That's just how it works.”
Connie sighed.
“Maybe,” she admitted.
“Look, when you're done with the police there, bring the kids over here. I've got three spare bedrooms. You can stay at my house for as long as you want to. We've got lots of security here. I'll make you and the kids feel safe.”
“Thank you, Chris,” she said. “That means more than you can imagine.”
CHAPTER 45
The restaurant bar
Technology Innovation Center & Hotel
San Francisco, California
(5:45am)
“Sorry if you wanted more than just an all-night chat,” Adam admitted. “But I'm really a good man.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said with a wink.
Wilhelmina drank the last sip of her beer which she'd been nursing from a coffee cup — the bartender ran out of clean mugs and glasses hours ago.
Out of the corner of Adam’s eye, a flash caught his attention. When he turned, he saw a photographer snapping pictures of him and Wilhelmina at the bar. Adam stood up and walked over to the man.
“What are you doing, buddy?” Adam yelled.
“Hey, I just take pictures. My editor decides what to do with them.”
Adam knew this would look bad. He grabbed at the camera, but the photographer jerked it away and walked backwards.
“Whoa, there, Mr. Astronaut. Is that your wife there at the bar?”
Adam grew enraged and lunged at the photographer, missing him as the man took off running from the room. Adam gave chase. The photographer slammed open the front door and tore off into the shadows. Adam fell behind and eventually lost him after two blocks.
“Not good,” Adam said, leaning over to catch his breath.
He started walking back toward the hotel and pulled out his cellphone to call his manager, Oliver.
“Adam, why are you calling me so early?” his beleaguered manager asked.
“I've got a serious problem,” Adam admitted.
“What's up?” a sleepy Oliver asked.
“So, I spent all last night chatting with an audience attendee and —”
“Is she attractive?” Oliver interrupted.
“What? Um, yes she is very attractive.”
“Go on....” Oliver said with a strangely curious tone.
“So we're in the hotel bar just chatting and some photographer takes our picture and runs away.”
“That's not good,” Oliver stated plainly.
“I know! What should I do?”
“Well, it's possible that it was a setup,” Oliver suggested. “Tabloids do that sort of thing all the time.”
“Really?” Adam asked with great enthusiasm.
“Sure, but it doesn't really matter. Your life is about to take on a new chapter.”
“In a good way?”
“No, in a crappy way,” Oliver said. “What do you think? One of two things is going to happen. Either they'll come to you and ask for extortion money or they'll just print it in a tabloid.”
“Both of those sound terrible,” Adam admitted.
“Believe me, the extortion is much better.”
Adam sighed.
“Look, just go tell your chat friend that you aren't allowed to talk anymore. Then pack up and drive to the next location. Act like nothing happened.”
Adam hung up the phone and walked back into the hotel bar. Wilhelmina was gone, but she left a note on a napkin. It said:
“Adam, Sorry about that. I enjoyed the conversation. For what it's worth, you really aren't as good a man as you think you are.”
He picked up the note and looked around the restaurant aimlessly, just in case she was still in the vicinity.
What used to take twenty four hours now took twenty four minutes. Before Adam could reach his hotel room, the famous tabloid website called CelebratoidNews had an image of him chatting with a mystery woman at the bar along with a headline blasting:
“SPACE MAN FINDS NEW PORT: Captain Adam Alston shares early-morning cup of joe with mysterious woman.”
His phone started ringing with reporters on the other end wanting exclusive interviews. Oliver called and told him to ignore the internet for the day.
Adam checked out of the hotel and drove down the freeway toward NASA Ames in the Silicon Valley area. It wasn’t far from the old NASA training facility that he and his fellow Mars crewmembers spent time at so long ago.
He arrived just before lunchtime.
There was one phone number that hadn't tried to call him yet: Connie.
Adam took out his cellphone and called her. It rang and went straight to voicemail. He called again. Voicemail. He left a message pleading for her to call him.
After lunch, Adam went to the auditorium and checked to make sure the lectern and microphone were both working. He sat down in the front row and tried to call Connie again. Finally, she answered.
“Hello?” a man’s voice answered.
Adam was confused.
“Um, who is this?” Adam asked.
“Hi, Adam, this is Chris Tankovitch.”
“And why are you answering my wife's phone?” Adam asked with extreme concern.
“Look Adam,” Chris said calmly, “Connie saw the headlines and she's a bit upset to say the least.”
“Nothing happened. I can explain it to her, just put her on the phone,” the exasperated astronaut said.
“Adam, you need to take it down a notch. She's not ready to talk right now.”
“Just put my wife on the phone!” Adam yelled.
Both sides went quiet. Adam began weeping.
“Adam?” Chris said calmly. “There was a break-in at your house last night. Everybody is okay, but they’re staying at my house for now.”
That was one crisis too much for Adam to handle.
“WHAT!” Adam exploded. “Put my damn wife on the phone right now. I have to talk with her about this. Are my kids okay?”
“Adam...” Chris said calmly.
“I said ARE MY KIDS OKAY!”, Adam yelled, interrupting Chris again.
“Everybody is fine,” Chris said. “She called
me first because I am here. She doesn't want to talk with you right now. Look, I have a great idea. Take a break from the public speaking circuit and go on that African expedition I told you about. It'll give you and Connie time to calm down and you can think about what you've done.”
“But I didn't do...”
“Adam. Just come back to Texas. I've got airline tickets with your name on them. You can meet up with my crew — they’re heading to Zambia shortly. I'll email the info to you. Get yourself to Africa and help my team find that Martian laboratory. The key to the cure for cancer may be there. Besides, the drive home will give you time to ask if downing beers with Wilhelmina all night was worth it.”
Adam hung up the phone and slumped in the auditorium chair. His phone beeped — the promised airline info had arrived via email. Adam looked at his phone and then dialed up Oliver.
“Oliver, I need to postpone the rest of my speeches. I have to go home.”
“Go home?” Oliver asked with frustration.
“Yes, things are a wreck at home and I have to mend a very important fence.”
“Look here, Adam. You've only got a week’s worth of dates left and I've worked very hard to get them lined up.”
“I know, but I have to leave right now.”
“Dammit, Adam, if you cancel now, then you'll hear from my lawyer.”
Adam was stunned at how quickly that had spiraled into lawyering up.
“Oliver, look, it doesn't have to be that way. Just postpone them.”
Oliver hung up on Adam.
Adam checked out of his hotel and packed up the Porsche. For nostalgic reasons, he drove down Highway 17 over the Santa Cruz mountains, treating each turn like an unofficial race. He reached the Monterey Bay coast before mid-afternoon and ate a late lunch at the Denny’s where he’d first met all of his fellow Mars astronauts long ago. This time he was all alone, so he ate at the bar. On his way into the restaurant, Adam picked up the local real-estate circular. He’d heard that Keller Murch’s beach house had been put up for sale, but hadn’t sold yet. While he ate his Grand Slam at the Denny’s bar, Adam flipped through the circular and discovered Keller’s house prominently displayed on the back cover in color.