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Authors: Matthew Sullivan
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this.”
“That works for me,” Charlie said.
“Two weeks,” Dr. Huang repeated to make sure that it was 100 percent clear. “Not three. Not four.”
“Two weeks. I got it. Thank you.”
“Yeah, well, whatever you’re planning on doing, be careful. And good luck.”
Charlie nodded appreciatively.
They both said their goodbyes and then headed their separate ways: Dr. Huang to his home-cooked dinner, and Charlie to retrieve the flash drive and decipher the cryptic contract. While Charlie had not intended to confirm the who and the what in his parents’ and Walter’s deaths, he had. And now he could only pray that translating the file would give him the why that he desperately needed.
◆ ◆ ◆
As soon as Charlie returned to his house, he went straight to his computer and opened the contract file. He tried a couple web-based translation programs, but just like Walter, he had no luck whatsoever. All reported errors.
Recalling that Walter had said it looked like it was written in Hebrew, Charlie did a quick search for any synagogues in the area and found one that was only a couple miles away. With everything that had been brought to light, Charlie knew it was even more essential that he made sure that the temple’s rabbi, or anyone else he would confide in, wasn’t on the contact list.
Even after he had confirmed that the rabbi was in the clear, Charlie decided that it was best to print a copy of the contract. That way, he could maintain possession of the drive at all times. It stored too much indispensable material to risk any chance of an accidental deletion or file corruption. Charlie hit print on the file, and then made for his parents’ home office to retrieve the copy.
Charlie had yet to reach the office when he first caught sight of the black fumes that had filled the room and were pouring into the hall. Without thinking, he sprinted for the office doorway.
Upon entering the smoky room, Charlie feverishly scanned for any sign of flames. He found none. While there was plenty of smoke, there was no fire.
Charlie wafted away the dark gray clouds in attempt to improve his view. Slowly but surely, the room began to clear, and Charlie discovered the source: the printer, a few plumes of smoke still billowing out of every orifice of the machine.
Charlie performed a cursory inspection of the printer. Everything appeared to be in order. Chalking it up to a fluke electrical issue, Charlie simply unplugged the printer’s power cord to prevent any further problems and retrieved his printout from the tray. He pocketed the piece of paper and then headed for the foyer.
Charlie opened the front door but didn’t even get one foot outside before he was stopped in his tracks. Just ahead of him, beginning to make their way up the front porch steps, were Terry and his two bodyguards.
CHAPTER TEN
If Terry had stopped by only a couple hours earlier, Charlie’s reaction would have been drastically different. As it was, Charlie felt his heart jump up from his chest and into the back of his throat, and his mind raced faster than the entire field on the final lap at the Indy 500. Had Terry been following him? Did Terry know that he knew? Was Terry there to kill him? Did he stand any chance if he ran? Those were just a few of the questions that shot through Charlie’s head in rapid succession.
Not only did Charlie determine that his window for running had closed just as soon as he had opened the front door, but his fear had turned his feet to cinder blocks. His mind could tell his legs to move all it wanted to, but he wasn’t going anywhere. He was forced to accept whatever was coming his way, good or bad. However, he knew better than to think that good was really an option, and braced himself for the worst.
Terry stopped; the corners of his mouth sagged. “Hey,” he said, his voice surprisingly melancholy.
Charlie was completely caught off-guard. It wasn’t the “Get him,” or
“That works for me,” Charlie said.
“Two weeks,” Dr. Huang repeated to make sure that it was 100 percent clear. “Not three. Not four.”
“Two weeks. I got it. Thank you.”
“Yeah, well, whatever you’re planning on doing, be careful. And good luck.”
Charlie nodded appreciatively.
They both said their goodbyes and then headed their separate ways: Dr. Huang to his home-cooked dinner, and Charlie to retrieve the flash drive and decipher the cryptic contract. While Charlie had not intended to confirm the who and the what in his parents’ and Walter’s deaths, he had. And now he could only pray that translating the file would give him the why that he desperately needed.
◆ ◆ ◆
As soon as Charlie returned to his house, he went straight to his computer and opened the contract file. He tried a couple web-based translation programs, but just like Walter, he had no luck whatsoever. All reported errors.
Recalling that Walter had said it looked like it was written in Hebrew, Charlie did a quick search for any synagogues in the area and found one that was only a couple miles away. With everything that had been brought to light, Charlie knew it was even more essential that he made sure that the temple’s rabbi, or anyone else he would confide in, wasn’t on the contact list.
Even after he had confirmed that the rabbi was in the clear, Charlie decided that it was best to print a copy of the contract. That way, he could maintain possession of the drive at all times. It stored too much indispensable material to risk any chance of an accidental deletion or file corruption. Charlie hit print on the file, and then made for his parents’ home office to retrieve the copy.
Charlie had yet to reach the office when he first caught sight of the black fumes that had filled the room and were pouring into the hall. Without thinking, he sprinted for the office doorway.
Upon entering the smoky room, Charlie feverishly scanned for any sign of flames. He found none. While there was plenty of smoke, there was no fire.
Charlie wafted away the dark gray clouds in attempt to improve his view. Slowly but surely, the room began to clear, and Charlie discovered the source: the printer, a few plumes of smoke still billowing out of every orifice of the machine.
Charlie performed a cursory inspection of the printer. Everything appeared to be in order. Chalking it up to a fluke electrical issue, Charlie simply unplugged the printer’s power cord to prevent any further problems and retrieved his printout from the tray. He pocketed the piece of paper and then headed for the foyer.
Charlie opened the front door but didn’t even get one foot outside before he was stopped in his tracks. Just ahead of him, beginning to make their way up the front porch steps, were Terry and his two bodyguards.
CHAPTER TEN
If Terry had stopped by only a couple hours earlier, Charlie’s reaction would have been drastically different. As it was, Charlie felt his heart jump up from his chest and into the back of his throat, and his mind raced faster than the entire field on the final lap at the Indy 500. Had Terry been following him? Did Terry know that he knew? Was Terry there to kill him? Did he stand any chance if he ran? Those were just a few of the questions that shot through Charlie’s head in rapid succession.
Not only did Charlie determine that his window for running had closed just as soon as he had opened the front door, but his fear had turned his feet to cinder blocks. His mind could tell his legs to move all it wanted to, but he wasn’t going anywhere. He was forced to accept whatever was coming his way, good or bad. However, he knew better than to think that good was really an option, and braced himself for the worst.
Terry stopped; the corners of his mouth sagged. “Hey,” he said, his voice surprisingly melancholy.
Charlie was completely caught off-guard. It wasn’t the “Get him,” or
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