Brainrush 03 - Beyond Judgment Read online

  Ahmed’s dark hair was swept back above a broad forehead, thick brows, black eyes, and a strong nose. He still had some filling out to do, Tony thought. But he looked dashing in his black tux. Tony ran a finger under the constricting collar of his own white shirt. The tailors had been able to adjust the penguin suit to handle his bulk. But the largest neck size on the fancy shirts was half an inch too small. Even so, he thought, his wife was gonna love the pictures. Of course, his two older kids were gonna laugh. He wished his family could’ve been here. But with the new baby and all, it hadn’t made sense.

  There was a round of applause outside, and Tony watched as Lacey offered a final wave to the crowd. Marshall stood stock-still. The red blindfold hadn’t budged. Tony grinned at the sight. How his friend had allowed himself to be talked into that, he’d never know. But Lacey was worth it. She took Marshall’s arm and guided him into the lobby. The hotel staff came to attention. Tony noticed several admiring nods.

  “Dammit, girl,” he said. “You are a breath-taker!”

  Lacey tilted her head and batted her eyelashes. “You think?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said. He patted Marshall on the shoulder. “You got a winner here, pal.”

  “If you say so,” Marshall said, pointing to the blindfold. “Of course, I can’t be sure. How do I know she hasn’t been switched out for a different model?”

  Lacey elbowed him.

  “Ouch!” Marshall said with a feigned flinch. “Okay, it’s definitely her.”

  They laughed.

  Sarafina was next in the door, followed by Francesca and little Alex. Tony felt a twinge of sadness. The kid was Jake’s spittin’ image, and the sight of him reminded Tony of the best man he’d ever known. That Jake had died by sacrificing himself to save the rest of them left a hole in his gut. It was a loss that Tony and his friends would feel forever.

  Alex looked worried. He stared at nothing, but it appeared as if his little brain was working overtime. It disconcerted Tony because the boy had always been oddly serene at get-togethers. Jake’s kid had ranked off the charts on puzzles and other nonverbal tests, which had made a lot of sense in light of his pop’s brain. The boy seemed to actively observe the world around him—via TV, the Internet, books, magazines, anything that provided input. It was as if he were soaking it into a vast library in his brain. Output, on the other hand, was limited. Alex seldom expressed emotions to anyone other than his mother. He never cried. Never laughed. Never spoke.

  Tony shrugged off his concern, crediting the child’s anxious behavior to the unusual pomp and circumstance of today’s event. Hell, weddings loosened a few screws in everyone’s emotions, he thought. It was nice to see that the kid wasn’t immune to it.

  Francesca’s father, Mario, entered with several of his gondolier buddies. The gang was all here. It was time to get this show on the road.

  They made their way up the staircase.

  The panoramic view from the hotel’s terrace stretched across the lagoon to the Isola di San Giorgio Maggiore, where sunlight glinted off golden-domed rooftops. Boats passed back and forth, and Tony could imagine noblemen of the past watching the arrival of merchant ships from the Orient filled with exotic wares. You couldn’t find this kind of history in LA, he thought.

  Marshall and Lacey held hands facing the guests. They were beneath an arched trellis of colorful flowers that cascaded to the floor. Tony and Alex stood beside Marshall. Francesca and Sarafina were next to the bride. Ahmed stood off to one side. The wedding party faced a gathering of guests who filled eight rows of chairs. A select group of photographers stood behind them. A string quartet played the last bars of the Bridal Chorus.

  Even beneath her veil, Lacey’s smile lit up the crowd. She’d waited long enough for this moment, Tony thought. He was glad to be sharing it with her and his best friend. Still wearing the blindfold, Marshall exhaled a slow breath. Tony noticed, and he couldn’t help but crack a smile. Several guests must have caught the unconscious tell as well, because there was a roll of chuckles. It wasn’t that Marshall didn’t want to get married. He loved Lacey completely. He was in his thirties now and it was long past time. But still…

  A priest stood on a dais behind the couple. “Buon giorno, signore e signori,” he said with a youthful sparkle in his voice. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” he continued in English, “to the ultimate celebration of love.” He spread his arms to indicate the wedding couple. “Aren’t they lovely?” The crowd erupted in applause. Lacey curtsied, Marshall blushed, and Tony felt Alex shift back and forth from one foot to the other. The boy had a thousand-yard stare that reminded Tony of Jake. He wondered what occupied Alex’s mind.

  At a cue from the priest, Lacey reached up and untied Marshall’s blindfold. The crowd quieted. “As you have followed me to this altar,” she recited from the old rite, “so shall I follow you in life.”

  The blindfold fell from Marshall’s eyes. He blinked against the sudden brightness, staring at Lacey with an awestruck expression. The moment stretched, and Tony remembered that the groom was supposed to respond with a rehearsed line as well. Instead, Marshall dropped to one knee, cupped Lacey’s hands in his, and said, “Lace, I can’t imagine life without you. Marry me and make me the luckiest man in the world.”

  Lacey beamed. “Yes, yes, yes!” she exclaimed. He stood, lifted her veil, and dipped her into a long kiss. The crowd cheered, Sarafina jumped up and down, and Alex tugged at Tony’s trousers.

  The priest harrumphed at the premature affection. He tapped Marshall on the shoulder. “Shall we begin?”

  Marshall grinned, and Lacey wiped lipstick from a corner of his mouth. It was her turn to blush, and Tony knew she wasn’t acting. The couple turned their backs on the guests and faced the priest. He raised his hands and recited a blessing.

  Alex tugged harder on his pant leg. Tony crouched down. “You okay, son?” he whispered. “You gotta pee or somethin’?”

  Alex didn’t respond. His fist gripped Tony’s lapel and, for the first time since Tony had known him, the boy made eye contact with him. It was unnerving, as if Alex searched the caverns of his mind, looking for an answer to some profound question. When Tony leaned over to scoop him up, the boy stepped back to prevent it. But he held the stare and Tony sensed an intense internal struggle within him.

  The priest stopped speaking at the interruption. Francesca and Sarafina hurried over to see what was wrong. Tony felt their presence, but he refused to break eye contact with Alex. The boy was on the verge of…something. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew it was important. When Francesca crouched beside him, Tony palmed the air to keep her from breaking the connection.

  She hesitated, and Tony suspected that she was using her empathic gift to read her son’s emotions. “He’s…excited,” she whispered.

  “Excited?” Tony said, holding the boy’s stare.

  “Is Alex okay?” Sarafina said.

  Marshall and Lacey joined the circle. Ahmed had moved closer as well. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Tony ignored them. Alex’s gaze intensified. Tony allowed his mind to be the backstop for whatever was happening. Unbidden images of Jake suddenly pierced his consciousness. Alex had somehow teased the images from his memory. It shocked Tony, but he didn’t look away. Alex’s mouth curved up in a mimic of Jake’s crooked smile, and Tony sensed a glimmer of satisfaction in his expression.

  Without breaking the connection with Tony, Alex reached out his hand and pointed at a silver locket that hung from his mother’s neck. Francesca let out a gasp, clutching at the keepsake. Alex extended his palm. She understood. She unclipped the necklace, opened the locket, and placed it in his hand. It was apparently a ritual they’d performed in the past.

  Alex’s eyes narrowed on Tony. He lifted the chain so that the locket was at eye level. Tony didn’t need to break his stare to know that Jake’s face was in the heart-shaped frame. But he looked anyway. The image brought with it a flood of memories—of friendship, battles, a
nd sacrifice. Tony embraced them. When he looked back at Alex, the boy nodded as if he’d seen it all, too. Alex’s eyes moistened, and Tony was taken aback by the flood of emotions they shared.

  As if a terrible burden had been lifted from his shoulders, Alex drew in a deep breath. He held it a moment. Then he unclipped his tablet from its holster and made an entry on its screen. A robotic voice sounded from the device.

  “My papa needs your help.”

  Chapter 7

  Venice, Italy

  THE VOICE FROM Alex’s tablet brought a collective gasp from the wedding party.

  Francesca dropped to her knees and pulled her son into a smothering embrace. She cried out in joy, “My son!” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Tony felt a mental jolt as his connection with the boy was lost.

  Sarafina’s eyes were saucers. She nearly stumbled as she lunged forward to join the embrace. Ahmed moved closer. His hands trembled, and Tony could sense the boy’s desire to jump in. But his aversion to being touched held him back. Mario stood behind him, mouth agape.

  “Holy cow,” Marshall said.

  “It’s a miracle!” pronounced Lacey. Similar exclamations came from the guests. Cameras flashed, video cams panned, and the priest made the sign of the cross.

  Tony’s thoughts traveled a different path. Yes, it was incredible that the boy had finally communicated. But Tony’s cop instincts pushed that piece of the puzzle aside as he asked himself why.

  My papa needs your help.

  He’d used English instead of Italian. The message had been directed at Tony. It had been a plea. The fact that he’d chosen this particular moment to make it lifted the hair on the back of Tony’s neck. He rose and studied the huddled family as they rocked from side to side in their embrace. Alex turned his head around. Tony saw fear in the child’s eyes.

  Marshall and Lacey moved beside him. “Can you believe it?” Marshall whispered.

  “Somethin’ ain’t right,” Tony said.

  “Of all the times,” Lacey added.

  “Exactly,” Tony said, deep in thought.

  “What do you think he meant about helping Jake?” Marshall asked.

  “I don’t know…yet,” Tony said. He turned to Lacey. “I know this is the last thing you want to hear right now, but—”

  He cut off as Lacey turned to the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she announced. “A magical day has just become more wondrous than ever! Please enjoy some refreshments while we take a short break.”

  A few minutes later, the wedding party was gathered in a private salon.

  “Everyone needs to calm down for a moment,” Tony said. The room quieted. Ahmed and Sarafina sat together on a love seat. Ahmed spun a pencil on the coffee table. Sarafina sat as close to him as she dared. Her hands were in her lap. She rocked gently back and forth. Mario, Lacey, and Marshall stood nearby. Alex sat on his mother’s lap on an antique lounger. He appeared agitated. He cradled the tablet. He hadn’t used it again—despite a barrage of questions from Sarafina and Ahmed. Tony feared that he was retreating into himself. It seemed to Tony as if it had taken a lot of effort for the boy to communicate in the first place.

  He pulled up a chair across from Alex and sat down. “Hey, pal.”

  Alex ignored him.

  “So, that was pretty cool how you spoke using your tablet,” Tony said. “How long you been doin’ that?”

  Still nothing.

  Tony hesitated. He recalled the emotional connection he’d shared with Alex earlier. The experience had sparked difficult memories. His shoulders sagged. “I feel you, Alex,” he said more to himself than to the boy. “I miss your pops, too. He was the best friend I ever had.” He soaked in the gazes of everyone around him, settling finally on Francesca. “Aw, hell, kid,” he added, “Jake was the best friend any of us ever had. We’d have done anything for him.”

  Alex shifted in his mom’s embrace. He rested the tablet on his lap. His index finger traced the lines of a complicated fractal pattern on the screen.

  The reaction fueled Tony’s hopes. He continued softly, less the interrogator, more the friend. “You said he needs our help?”

  The boy’s fingers picked up speed across the screen.

  The only sound in the room was the rustle of Lacey’s gown as she edged closer to Marshall.

  Okay, Tony thought. Keep it simple—yes-or-no questions only. “Umm…would you like us to pray for him?”

  Alex’s finger hesitated on the display. It was as if he was confused by the question.

  Francesca opened her mouth as if to speak but evidently thought better of it. She didn’t want to disrupt the connection. She arched her eyebrows at Tony. He got the message. Keep it going. He cut to the chase.

  “O…kay,” Tony said, drawing out the word. He was worried for the poor kid. But another part of him remembered that beneath the childhood veneer, Alex tested smarter than most adults. Maybe it was time to treat him as such. “Alex, do you know where he is?”

  Alex glanced pointedly out the salon’s picture window. Then back to his tablet.

  “Outside?” Tony asked.

  Alex swept the fractal image aside. His index finger moved across rows of application icons. Tony waited for him to pull up whatever app he’d used earlier to communicate. Instead, the boy opened an application that included a series of illustrated flash cards. He swept through them. The childlike images flashed by so fast that Tony could barely keep up. Each illustration included a word beneath it. He saw a television—TV; a boy in a bed—SLEEPY; a beverage—DRINK; and several others. When an image of two children RUNNING appeared, Alex stopped.

  “He was running?” Tony asked. “Outside?”

  Alex didn’t look up. But the crooked smile was back. It was such a “Jake” expression that Tony found it unnerving. Apparently satisfied, Alex crossed his hands over the screen as if there were no further need for it.

  “Nooo…” Francesca muttered, louder than she intended. The sentiment had come unbidden. She swallowed hard. Joy at her son’s ability to communicate appeared to battle with her concern for his state of mind. After a moment her shoulders sagged. She pulled Alex closer. “I’m sorry, caro,” she said softly. “But the man we saw could not have been your father.”

  Tony was immediately alert. “You saw someone running?” he asked Francesca.

  “A man was being chased,” she said. “Beyond the crowd. I saw him from behind. B—But it couldn’t be…” Her voice trailed off, and Tony could imagine her replaying the scene in her mind.

  Tony studied the boy. The connection he’d experienced in the other room with Alex had been extreme. True or not, Tony knew from the bond that the boy believed what he was saying. A sudden chase outside had likely triggered a reminder of stories about his father. His imagination had filled in the rest. Of course it couldn’t be true, he thought. But that hardly mattered. He knew from his own experience as a father that there would be no peace—and no wedding ceremony—until he proved it.

  He rose and whispered something to Marshall. His friend looked at him like he was crazy. “Just do it, Marsh,” Tony said. He motioned toward Francesca’s father. “And you better take Mario with you. Because they ain’t going to give ’em up willingly.”

  Marshall nodded. He and Mario left the room.

  Tony heard a commotion outside. A minute later, the two men returned. Three gondoliers acted as their rear guard. Marshall’s face was red. He had a bruised lip. “Friggin’ paparazzi,” he mumbled. “I hope these are worth the trouble.” He had a digital camera in either hand. Mario held two more.

  “Pass ’em out,” Tony said, taking one of the cameras. Marshall kept one, Lacey another. “Start with any video recordings. Scroll backward to when we were on the dock. We’re looking for three men running at the back of the crowd.”

  Ahmed and Sarafina took the last camera back to the love seat. Francesca sat forward on the lounger. Alex stood beside her, his hand in hers. He watched Tony with an intense f
ocus.

  It was Marshall who spoke up first. “I’ve got something.” Tony and Lacey gathered around the small screen. Marshall played it back. There were two men chasing a third. Their backs were to the camera. They ran over a short bridge. Marshall zoomed in and slowed the motion. But just as the first man turned his head to glance toward the camera, a group of tourists blocked the view. By the time the crowd passed, he was gone.

  “Damn…” Tony muttered under his breath.

  “Oh, God!” Sarafina’s outburst chilled him. She and Ahmed gaped at the screen of the camera they held. Tony and the rest of them rushed over.

  “Allahu Akbar,” Ahmed said in a hushed voice. He turned the camera so the others could see.

  Francesca’s gasp accented the emotion everyone in the room felt.

  Jake Bronson was alive.

  Chapter 8

  Swiss Alps

  VICTOR CLOSED THE hinged panel for the final time. The hidden room behind it had been his sanctuary since he was a child. Soon, the comfort it provided would no longer be necessary. He wiped the last bit of blood from his hand and pocketed the knife. The session had gone well.

  The snowstorm had grown in intensity. A whistle of wind from an ill-fitting window pushed a chill breeze across his neck. He moved down the hall, and the crackle of burning logs drew him into the great room. He sauntered through the room, breathing it in, capturing the smells and memories of his life. The walls had been stripped bare. His footsteps clapped on stone floors that were no longer carpeted. He ran his hand along the burled edge of the pitted dining table that spanned the far wall. He wondered at the magnitude of power that had been wielded by the generations of men who had secretly gathered here. Men of science, art, politics, and influence. From across the globe, strategizing around a shared vision—all leading up to this moment.