Read Online Skunk Hunt by J. Clayton Rogers - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: J. Clayton Rogers
Tags: murder and crime, shootouts, treasure hunt mystery, hidden loot, hillbilly humor, robbery gone wrong, trashy girls and men, twin brother, greed and selfishness, sex and comedy
Ads: Link
smug. I didn't see much to distinguish the two
attitudes, except he didn't seem inclined to punch Barbara after
delivering his verdict. Actually, that was a pretty big
improvement.
"Where did you get them?" Barbara asked.
I shot her a warning glance. Don't ask, don't
tell. She caught on, but not quickly enough. A smirk had hitched
itself to Jeremy's lips.
"You think I stole it?"
"Does it matter?" I asked.
"You mean like father like son?" Jeremy
said. "What have you stolen
lately?"
"Nothing!" Barbara answered for me. That she
was telling the truth was only a matter of luck. "Mute has a good
job. That's how he pays for all of this."
She waved her arm in a circle, directing
Jeremy's attention to the broken sink, the ratty curtains, the
splotched linoleum floor, the unhinged cabinets, the
nicotine-stained walls, the wobbly table...all of this. Now that I
knew my brother considered this a pigsty, having it presented as
evidence of my scrupulous lifestyle left a bad taste in my mouth.
Truly, sort of like eating garlic and then blowing into someone's
face to prove how fresh your breath is.
Fortunately, Jeremy did not join Barbara's
visual tour of the kitchen. I think he would have preferred to
close his eyes and keep them shut. Having been dismissed as a
guide, Barbara scowled at the tote bags.
"I bought this with my own money, thank you,"
said Jeremy stiffly, again betraying a trace of prissiness. He took
out his laptop and opened it on the table.
"Don't you need wires?" I asked. "And you'll
probably need a phone jack."
"We're next door to a university. They've got
a cafeteria, library, all Wifi. I can piggyback."
Since neither Barbara nor I knew what he was
talking about, we fell into a glum and leery silence. As Jeremy's
fingers danced across the keys and pad, I sensed the skewed picture
was now practically upside down. I had expected a minimal
performance, the hunt and peck technique of a prison vocational
school, accompanied by dark mutters and loud complaints—accusations
that the computer was inadequate or that the skills taught to him
were out of date. But obviously, my brother had taken his lessons
seriously
As his face settled into bland repose, our
father's features became more apparent. I guess this was because
Skunk, except when in his cups, was not a demonstrative man. Jeremy
had been emoting since he stepped inside, in effect blurring the
mad dog face we had known and dreaded. Only this younger version of
Skunk had been to canine obedience school, aka Powhatan
Correctional Center.
Jeremy muttered to himself. His eyebrows
seemed to pop upwards, not in surprise, but jocular
self-commentary. His hand slid over the mousepad like a veteran
skater on a tiny rink. We watched him pummel the laptop keys for
another minute or so before Barbara grew impatient.
"Well?" she said.
"Oh, sorry, I was trending," he answered. He
didn't notice our stern expressions of inquiry because he was
totally absorbed in the computer screen.
"Hey, you want to look up and tell us what's
going on?" I said, a little timorously. I was programmed at a young
age not to push people who beat me regularly. I didn't want the old
Jeremy to jump out of this urbane skin and grab me by the
throat.
"Yeah." He raised his head and refocused on
us. "The domain name's not there."
"Meaning?"
"www.treasure447.com, the site mentioned in
my letter. Your letters, too, I guess. I didn't expect it to be.
We're dealing with a short-life website. Al-Qaeda uses them all the
time."
"Terrorists?" Barbara said faintly.
"It makes sense," Jeremy explained casually.
"As soon as the site disappears no one can track it because there's
nothing to track. The terrorists have the password in advance and
are told when the site will be activated. It comes up, they
download whatever's on there, and then the site disappears. Pretty
basic. Our treasure site won't be activated until April 1, and we'd
better damn well be where we can pull it up."
"Otherwise, it's sort of
attitudes, except he didn't seem inclined to punch Barbara after
delivering his verdict. Actually, that was a pretty big
improvement.
"Where did you get them?" Barbara asked.
I shot her a warning glance. Don't ask, don't
tell. She caught on, but not quickly enough. A smirk had hitched
itself to Jeremy's lips.
"You think I stole it?"
"Does it matter?" I asked.
"You mean like father like son?" Jeremy
said. "What have you stolen
lately?"
"Nothing!" Barbara answered for me. That she
was telling the truth was only a matter of luck. "Mute has a good
job. That's how he pays for all of this."
She waved her arm in a circle, directing
Jeremy's attention to the broken sink, the ratty curtains, the
splotched linoleum floor, the unhinged cabinets, the
nicotine-stained walls, the wobbly table...all of this. Now that I
knew my brother considered this a pigsty, having it presented as
evidence of my scrupulous lifestyle left a bad taste in my mouth.
Truly, sort of like eating garlic and then blowing into someone's
face to prove how fresh your breath is.
Fortunately, Jeremy did not join Barbara's
visual tour of the kitchen. I think he would have preferred to
close his eyes and keep them shut. Having been dismissed as a
guide, Barbara scowled at the tote bags.
"I bought this with my own money, thank you,"
said Jeremy stiffly, again betraying a trace of prissiness. He took
out his laptop and opened it on the table.
"Don't you need wires?" I asked. "And you'll
probably need a phone jack."
"We're next door to a university. They've got
a cafeteria, library, all Wifi. I can piggyback."
Since neither Barbara nor I knew what he was
talking about, we fell into a glum and leery silence. As Jeremy's
fingers danced across the keys and pad, I sensed the skewed picture
was now practically upside down. I had expected a minimal
performance, the hunt and peck technique of a prison vocational
school, accompanied by dark mutters and loud complaints—accusations
that the computer was inadequate or that the skills taught to him
were out of date. But obviously, my brother had taken his lessons
seriously
As his face settled into bland repose, our
father's features became more apparent. I guess this was because
Skunk, except when in his cups, was not a demonstrative man. Jeremy
had been emoting since he stepped inside, in effect blurring the
mad dog face we had known and dreaded. Only this younger version of
Skunk had been to canine obedience school, aka Powhatan
Correctional Center.
Jeremy muttered to himself. His eyebrows
seemed to pop upwards, not in surprise, but jocular
self-commentary. His hand slid over the mousepad like a veteran
skater on a tiny rink. We watched him pummel the laptop keys for
another minute or so before Barbara grew impatient.
"Well?" she said.
"Oh, sorry, I was trending," he answered. He
didn't notice our stern expressions of inquiry because he was
totally absorbed in the computer screen.
"Hey, you want to look up and tell us what's
going on?" I said, a little timorously. I was programmed at a young
age not to push people who beat me regularly. I didn't want the old
Jeremy to jump out of this urbane skin and grab me by the
throat.
"Yeah." He raised his head and refocused on
us. "The domain name's not there."
"Meaning?"
"www.treasure447.com, the site mentioned in
my letter. Your letters, too, I guess. I didn't expect it to be.
We're dealing with a short-life website. Al-Qaeda uses them all the
time."
"Terrorists?" Barbara said faintly.
"It makes sense," Jeremy explained casually.
"As soon as the site disappears no one can track it because there's
nothing to track. The terrorists have the password in advance and
are told when the site will be activated. It comes up, they
download whatever's on there, and then the site disappears. Pretty
basic. Our treasure site won't be activated until April 1, and we'd
better damn well be where we can pull it up."
"Otherwise, it's sort of
Similar Books
