CHAPTER TWO

“If you believe you are enlightened, you are actually a little bit crazy.” Taisen Deshimaru “You’re slipping, Nellie,” said Hatchet with a laugh. “Th at took you about thirty seconds longer than I expected.” “I did background research on a bunch of his people for the senator.” “I thought that might be the case.” “Are they the ones who are missing?” “Yup.” “And he’s the one they’re taking to the brig? “Yup.” “Yikes!” “Tell me about it,” said Hatchet with a small laugh. “He’s got to be a zillionaire.” “And then some.” Penelope’s mind raced and she felt her fingers tingle. “The heck with the other stuff. One of the world’s richest men being held by the federal government is a huge story by itself.” “Really?” Hatchet said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Th at never occurred to me. You’ve got a real knack for this journalism stuff . Have you ever considered a career as a reporter?” Penelope ignored the jab and studied the picture more intently. “A man in his position and with his wealth hardly seems the type to be involved in government conspiracies.” 14 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin “I wouldn’t be so sure. Walker has his fingers in a lot of pies, not only in Washington, but in Europe and the rest of the world as well. Whatever this Hermes Project is, the government cancelled it. Apparently, Walker decided to bankroll the entire operation with his own funds.” “How much money are we talking here?” “You can ask him when you talk to him. But his research and development budget is larger than the gross national products of half the members of the United Nations.” “Is this Walker guy dirty?” “Never been even a whiff of scandal.” “Funny. Why haven’t I seen anything about this in the press?” “Because, Nellie, thanks to my imaginary source, you’re the only one who knows he’s been detained and knows where he is.” “I’ll leave now…” “Whoa, Nellie.” “You know I hate that.” “I know. But he may not even be there yet, besides visiting hours are over. It’s too late to get anything for tomorrow’s edition, and I don’t want this to break with an online story or to tip our hand. I want to be the only paper in America with this on its front page Sunday.” “I’ll go see him first thing in the morning.” “Until then, keep this completely under your hat.” “What about Joey?” “What about her?” “Well,” Penelope said with a glance over her shoulder in the direction of her friend. “She’s been reading the file while we were talking.” “Hi Mark!” Joey shouted again. “How come you never fix me up with any guys?” “Oh lord,” Hatchet said with a sigh. “I did mention I could get fi red over this, right? Can you keep her under control?” “Nope. Gave up trying years ago.” “Super.” “Relax. Who is she going to tell?” “You guys talking about me?” Joey demanded. “Yes,” Penelope said with a laugh. “We were just talking about how good you are at keeping your mouth shut.” “I am?” Joey answered dumbfounded. Penelope’s eyes grew big and she 15 The Fourth Awakening gave Joey a look usually aimed at an unruly two year old. Recognition exploded on Joey’s face. “I am. Absolutely. Secrets are us.” “God help me,” Hatchet said with a sigh. “Keep me posted.” Th e phone went dead. “You, young lady,” Penelope said shaking a finger in Joey’s direction, “are not getting out of my sight for the rest of the day.” “Slumber party!” . JJoey had insisted on going home to shower and change before going out for dinner. Reluctantly Penelope had agreed. Penelope took a sip from her chamomile tea, then typed rapidly on her laptop. She wanted to know as much as she possibly could about Michael James Walker. Up until six months ago he had been a public relations dynamo. Th ere were literally hundreds of stories about him and his company, then absolutely nothing since last fall. “That’s odd,” Penelope muttered to herself. She checked Yahoo, MSN, and several other search engines getting more or less the same result. She printed off some background material about Walker and Walker Industries and added it to the folder. Picking up the photo of Walker she carefully studied his face. Strong-willed, of that she was certain. But whether he drank too much and smacked women around, or went gaga over kids and puppies, without more information there was no way to tell. Remembering what Mark said about 30 plus people missing, it was easy to assume the worst. Turning her focus back to her computer, Penelope clicked a bookmarked website. A request for her name and password to the FBI National Database opened. With previous stories Mark assigned her, there had been no risk of a conflict of interest between The Washington Post and the senator. This was very different and she felt her toes approaching a line she preferred not to cross. Leaning back in her chair she checked her watch and couldn’t believe how late it had gotten. Checking her hair in the mirror as she reached for her car keys she noticed the book, Power of Th ought, that was lying on the nightstand by her bed. Someone in her yoga class recently was talking about the Law of Attraction and Penelope decided to check it out. “What the heck?” She thought to herself. Simply wishing for something to happen and having it magically appear sounded like New Age 16 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin poppycock, but with the bizarre things that had been happening in her life recently she was willing to give it a try. Closing her eyes, she visualized herself arriving at the restaurant where a premium parking place, one in the shade, would be waiting for her. She continued, visualizing herself being grateful to finish dinner and return to a car that wasn’t scorching inside. During the short drive to the restaurant, any thoughts about parking places were released and replaced with a thousand questions about her conversation with Mark. He had certainly piqued her curiosity. She pulled into the lot just as someone was pulling out of one of the few shady spots. She smiled and shook her head. Joey had sworn on her ex-husband’s grave she would be there no later than six forty-five. Since Ron Rickman was still very much alive and Joey had never been on time for anything in her life, Penelope was confi dent she would still be the first to arrive. She was right; Joey’s car was nowhere to be seen. Penelope looked up when she heard the blare of a car horn, and watched as a fire engine red BMW roadster squealed into the front parking lot. With the top down on the sleek little sports car, Joey was able to fully extend her left arm and wave at the driver of a late model pickup truck who was using his horn to offer a personal critique of Joey’s driving skills. Joey Rickman had two unfortunate weaknesses; a lead foot and a lousy sense of direction. She never seemed to know where she was going, but was always in a hurry to get there. Bounding from the Beamer, which was now parked straddling the white line between two sun-drenched parking spaces, Joey pushed her windblown mane of vivid red hair out of her face. Her green eyes twinkled. “I don’t believe that man has an ounce of Southern hospitality in him,” she said with a wry smile. “You were supposed to be here 10 minutes ago,” Penelope said as she gripped the handle and pulled the restaurant door open. Joey batted her eyes. “And when have you known me not to be tastefully late?” She said breezing past her lifelong friend. “Besides, you just got here yourself.” “How do you fi gure that?” “You were still outside.” Penelope shrugged; Joey was right. In the lobby, Penelope glanced at Joey who was already getting 17 The Fourth Awakening fidgety. She had seen that look many times before and knew what it meant, nicotine withdrawal. With Charleston’s recent ban on smoking in all public places, they would be dining on the deck today. Penelope made eye contact with the night manager Jennifer who was busy placing menus in front of a middle aged couple in the main dining room. Penelope held up two fingers and pointed toward the patio. Jennifer, seeing that Joey was with her, nodded to indicate she understood and turned her attention back to the table she was seating. As they passed through the bar area Joey paused and spoke to the bartender who was wearing a white blouse and black vest pinned with a name tag that said “Allison”. Like so many in Charleston’s service industry, Allison looked too young to be drinking liquor much less serving it. “Sweetheart,” Joey said sweetly. “In a few minutes you’re going to be getting an order for a dry martini. In this case, ‘dry’ means you can show it the bottle of vermouth, but don’t you dare pour any in the glass.” The part-time bartender, a full time student at the College of Charleston, was a stunning beauty. She had flaxen hair and widely spaced blue-green eyes that could make any male with a pulse say and do embarrassing things. She turned her attention to Joey. “Yes, ma’am,” she said with a smile bright and warm enough that she might have been able to save the Titanic by melting the iceberg. Joey Rickman led the way to the patio while reaching for a cigarette. “That child called me ma’am.” “So?” Penelope said as she pushed open the door to the patio. “Did you forget your Southern-to-English dictionary again? We both know ‘ma’am” means that ‘B’ word that rhymes with witch.” “I thought she was being polite and respectful of her elders.” “Elders!” Joey fanned herself. “Gracious. How old do you think I am?” “Since we were born three days apart, I have a pretty good idea. I’ll be happy to blurt it out for you if you would like.” “That won’t be necessary, ma’am,” Joey said as she looked around to see if anyone was listening. “You know the first thing a Southern lady learns how to do is deliver an insult with a smile.” “Oh, Lord,” Penelope said. “Here we go again.” Her voice changed to a monotone. “You can say anything catty you want about someone if you smile and add, ‘bless their heart’.” “Exactly.” 18 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin “You are totally deranged,” Penelope said, then added with a fake smile, “Bless your heart.” Joey patted Penelope’s hand. “That’s the spirit.” Once seated in the wrought iron chair, Joey tapped the end of her Benson and Hedges on the glass tabletop with one hand while fumbling through her purse for her lighter with the other. Penelope eyed her friend critically. “You really should give those things up.” “Oh, please,” Joey said, rolling the wheel of her solid gold lighter. “Allow me one small vice.” “One? Ha!” Joey stuck her tongue out at Penelope. Sparks shot out from the fl int of her lighter, but there was no flame. She tried several more times before finally giving up and returning her cigarette to its package. “Why is it my lighter never seems to work when I’m with you, but works just fi ne any other time?” “Maybe because you’re always on your best behavior when we’re together?” After a short pause, the two old friends both giggled. For over 40 years they had been thick as thieves with “good behavior” never their default mode. “I think you’ve hexed my lighter.” “And how do you suppose I was able to do that?” “I have no idea. All I know is strange things have been happening around you since you started this yoga stuff . That has been annoying enough; I mean, why can’t you do Pilates like everyone else?” Joey said as she shoved her lighter back into her purse. Jennifer approached the table with two menus in hand, placing one in front of Joey and the other in front of Penelope. She pointed at Penelope, “Water with lemon and no ice.” Turning her gaze toward Joey, “Double Grey Goose vodka martini, dry.” Both women nodded. Joey smiled sweetly. “Could you bring me some matches?” “I’m sorry, Mrs. Rickman but they’re on back order and we’re all out.” “Of course you are,” Joey said as she gave Penelope a sideways glance. Jennifer nodded. “Your server will be Allison. She’s new, so bear with her a bit. She’s working the patio and the bar.” Joey dropped her cigarettes back into her purse and glared at her lifelong friend. “So far I’ve been supportive of your little spiritual quest for self-fulfillment, but now it’s starting to affect my day.” Joey shook a 19 The Fourth Awakening threatening finger in Penelope’s direction. “Watch it!” “Demented,” Penelope muttered as shook her head. “So what’s our plan?” Joey asked as she held the menu at arm’s length to avoid the indignity of having to put on her reading glasses. “What plan are you talking about?” Penelope asked as she pushed the menu aside without opening it. “How are we going to get into the brig to see this guy?” “Who is this ‘we’ you’re referring to?” “Me and you.” “Ha!” Penelope said with a laugh. “I’m going to the brig. You will be spending the day at the Piccolo Spoleto planning meeting.” Joey Rickman winced. “I’d forgotten about that.” At that moment Allison appeared carrying their drinks. “Filet rare with creamy grits. House dressing on the salad,” Joey announced as she folded her menu closed. “I’m feeling decadent. I’ll take the portabella sandwich with a side of the parmesan risotto,” Penelope said as she handed her unopened menu to Allison. The server acted as if she wanted to frown but didn’t seem to quite know how to go about it. She started flipping through the handwritten notes she had tucked in her order book for quick reference. Her eyes were showing a hint of panic. “Will you excuse me for one second?” Allison turned and dashed toward the door leading to restaurant. “Was it something I said?” Penelope asked. Joey just shrugged. She had no idea what had sent the waitress/bartender scrambling for help. Allison emerged through the door with Jennifer in tow. “Allison told me you wanted to order risotto?” “Yes,” Penelope answered with a smile. “You mean the creamy grits?” “No, risotto.” “Ms. Spence, we don’t have any risotto.” “Ah, sold out.” Jennifer carefully measured her words before speaking. “Are you sure you don’t mean the grits? They are very similar.” “Jennifer, I come in here twice a week and I love the risotto.” “I’ve worked here for over three years and we’ve never had risotto on the menu.” 20 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin “Just bring her the grits,” Joey said as she patted Penelope on the hand. “Having a senior moment, are we?” Joey said, as she fought to keep from laughing. “We’ve been eating in this restaurant together for the past 15 years and I’ve never seen you order risotto before.”