28. Imry
28
IMRY
I pause on the word ‘ crease ’ and read what it is. The blue area around the goalie. It is a safe zone, a reference point, and a penalty shot in hockey.
Hmm. How can I turn that dirty? I feel like it’s already built in.
Me
Want to lick my crease tonight?
No wait. Let me try again. If you tap my ass with your stick, I’ll let you in my crease tonight.
Haze
Oh god. Stop.
Me
I’ll let you sin in my bin!
Haze
You’re going to suck my pucks tonight.
I scowl.
Me
Why do these come so naturally to you?
Haze
Because I know what the terms mean!
Huffing, I flip out of the chat and back to the online hockey reference. I need to study some more, apparently.
The door opens, and I look up as Avory and Ellory enter the room. The door slowly shuts behind them as Avory takes a seat beside me with Ellory on his other side.
“Hey. Have fun in Philly?”
“I really like Elgin,” Ellory says while Avory nods. “He’s cool. I’m excited for them to move home. I think they’ll spend a couple months at home this summer since Elgin doesn’t have hockey then. Maybe we can convince Uncle Oxley to come home for the summer too, so we can hang out with Huntley some more.”
I smile. “That sounds good.”
“So… we had something we wanted to ask you,” Avory says.
“Ohh, this must be good since you’re leading up to it awkwardly.”
Avory shoves me. “How do you feel about becoming ordained?” he asks.
My eyebrows knit together. “Like… a minister?”
“Well, like a justice of the peace or something similar.”
I’m dense for a whole thirty seconds before their question clicks. I grin. “You’re ready to get married?”
Ellory’s soft smile tells me more than anything he could say. He and Avory meet each other’s eyes for a minute, and I can feel how their love radiates between them. “Yeah,” Ellory says.
“We know it won’t actually be legally registered since, you know, brothers or whatever,” Avory says, shrugging. “But it’ll be legal without being registered because you’ll be licensed to perform ceremonies. Kind of a loophole and a ‘ fuck you, government ’ all in one.”
I grin. “Absolutely.”
“Thanks. There’s no way to decide who gets to have you stand with them, so this seemed like the best solution. Now we both get you,” Ellory says.
I lean into Avory, reaching around him to pull Ellory closer. “You both always get me. I’d have stood with you, holding your hands if that’s what you wanted.”
They give me twin smiles. “Thanks.”
The monitor begins ringing and we pull away from each other. Ellory reaches for the board, sliding it toward us and answering the call. Voss’ face fills the enormous screen.
“Hey, brother!” We chorus together as if we planned it.
Voss’ smile spreads wide. “Hey, freaky triplets. Where is everyone?”
“The meeting doesn’t start for another ten minutes. How did you know someone would even be in here?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I didn’t. I’ve already called in twice.”
“Oooh. Must be excited about something since Dad is the one who called this meeting,” Ellory says.
“Yes, I am! Look at this.”
The screen splits, and what looks like a map of some kind fills up half the screen. I don’t recognize what I’m looking at, though.
“Very nice,” Avory says, clearly not understanding any more than I am. Voss laughs.
“We were tapping into some Dranghetta electronics with security holes and this image kept coming up. When we found it three times, we extracted it, thinking there was something encoded in it. Like porn or names or something,” Voss explains. “What else would you keep a weird old map if not to encrypt something within it?”
“Historical purposes?” I suggest.
He shrugs. “Maybe. Anyway, there isn’t any encryption, but once turned one-hundred-eighty degrees, the outline becomes familiar.”
The image on the screen spins, and I recognize it almost immediately.
“New York City?” Ellory asks.
“Yes! It took us a while to track down the old map that this one is built from, but we found it.” The image is digitally laid over a yellowed image of a map that reads ‘The Ratzer Map of New York City, 1767.’
“Wow. Look how farmland-y the city was,” Ellory says.
“Right? Hard to believe it wasn’t always a concrete jungle.”
“Those lines don’t really match up with any streets,” Avory points out.
“Correct. So if I overlay a current map,” Voss says and more lines bleed into the map, “We see that the lines from the original image make more sense.”
“Cool,” Myro says, and I realize he, Dad, and Loren have joined us. I was apparently really concentrating on the map puzzle. “But why does this matter?”
“If you’d been here for the beginning of this conversation, you’d see that there’s obviously some correlation,” Voss says.
“The meeting doesn’t begin for another minute,” Myro deadpans.
“Anyway,” Dad says. “Back up.”
“We were poking around on some Dranghetta electronics and kept finding this image.” The screen backs up to the first image Voss showed us, once more flipped upside down. “We turned it around, recognized NYC, found the corresponding 1767 map this one aligns with, overlaid it on a current day map, and then you decided to show up,” Voss says, grinning.
“Very well,” Dad says. “Continue.”
“So the lines in the original map now make more sense because they align with modern day streets. They also travel under a lot of the Dranghetta and Ignazio hot spots, including their don’s primary and secondary homes, as well as the places they’re known to own and conduct a lot of business.”
It’s difficult to miss the excitement in Voss’ voice.
“Nice,” Myro says. “I take back my earlier unimpressed tone.”
“Generous,” Ellory says.
Myro flashes him a grin.
“What do you plan to do with this map?” Dad asks.
“Okay, so I know you have things to report, but I figured this was a good time to get you up to speed. We’ve been pulling some detonators from a few facilities and relocating them to some more active ones that will result in far fewer civilian casualties. However, now that we have this map and it connects a lot of the two families, we want to see how often these tunnels are used. Where the access points are. Lorissa and I are hoping they go directly into some of these houses we’re targeting. She thinks the tunnels are probably old bootlegging tunnels the mafia used during prohibition and are no longer active. If that’s the case, we’ll be able to set more viruses quicker and I’ll be in the air flying home when they go off.”
“What’s the immediate plan?” Myro asks.
“Recon. Lor’s sent some of her crew to track down entrances and begin scoping out the tunnels. We’ll be placing pinhead cameras underground equipped with motion activation, night vision, and heat vision. They’ll remotely connect to relay any activity. What we find will determine how we move forward—our current method or something far quicker, more efficient, and safer,” Voss answers.
“Lor?” Avory asks.
“Sorry. Lorissa.”
“Hmm. Pet names. You getting close to Uncle Noaz’s successor?” Avory teases.
Voss rolls his eyes. “Any relevant questions?”
Ellory snickers. I don’t miss the way Myro leans back with his hand over his mouth. It’s cute to see that maybe Voss is hooking up with his partner in crime. He rarely dates, so good for him.
“Updated time frame?” Dad asks.
“If we’re able to utilize these tunnels, we’ll map them more thoroughly, making sure this is the extent of them, and infiltrate their security and electronic systems from underground. That’ll give us a good idea of how much the families have spread out since this map was drawn as well as how many properties aren’t shown on the maps that we’ll have to hit the way we’ve been doing these last couple months.”
“All right. Keep us updated.”
“Of course. Sorry to have overtaken the meeting.”
Dad waves him off. “I’d like you to stay on, Voss. I think we’re going to need your expertise.”
Voss nods and sits back in his chair to listen.
“Avory and Ellory have brought forward three more contracts regarding the megachurch cult island. We’ve also been monitoring the news closely on this as well as tapping into resources the news doesn’t report on or maybe doesn’t have access to,” Dad says.
“Here’s what we know: there are four boats scheduled to deliver resources, materials, and residents to the island once a week throughout the month of February. The next one is scheduled for Wednesday next week. They have electricity and access to fresh water, though there’s no plumbing. They have satellite access on the island, which allows them phone communication and some computer access. There is no mail service allowed in or out except to Johnston as far as anyone can tell.”
“That’s not surprising,” I say.
Dad inclines his head. “We don’t know whether the complete withdrawal from their families is voluntary or forced. We don’t know how the residents are being treated. We don’t know whether they’re happy and would like to remain there or unhappy and want to return.”
I glance at Loren, who’s actually watching Dad when usually he’s unfocused for most of these meetings. Is he interested? Curious? Mildly annoyed that he’s here?
“So what’s the plan?” Myro asks.
“I think Loren’s right with his analysis of the situation and our involvement. Last meeting, Avory and Ellory suggested needing some recon on the island and somehow getting an ally or two on the island, not only to assess the situation firsthand, but to gain us access before we move forward.”
“If our help is even wanted,” Loren interjects. “Are any of these contracts from someone who has been a victim of Johnston’s? Or are these parents upset their adult children have gone somewhere they don’t have access to and they don’t approve of?”
“Ouch,” Voss mutters.
Dad studies Loren for a minute before smiling. “You make a good point, Loren.”
Loren doesn’t respond. I love the way his mind works sometimes. He’s so cut and dry, black and white, assessing without emotion, and there are often times he points out the flaws in our plans because we see in grayscale. We have empathy for the victims who initiate contracts. This isn’t the first time Loren’s not buying what we’re setting before him.
I’m slightly amused that most of the time when Loren points out an error in our plan, he’s right and we backtrack entirely. This is undoubtedly the reason we like Loren involved in all stages of discussions.
It also makes me wonder what Dad will decide if Loren’s right and our help isn’t wanted or needed. There will be some upset parents, but as Loren pointed out, the people they’re after are adults. You can’t force them into the lane that you want them into if they choose another path.
“Voss, I need some eyes on the island. Suggestions?” Dad says.
“Where do the boats leave from?” Voss asks.
“Santa Catalina in Baja California, Mexico,” Dad says.
“I’m guessing they’re bussed down from San Diego?”
Dad nods.
Voss considers this. “We can see if Oxley has anyone who’d be willing to take on this assignment, but…” He takes another second. “Here’s what I’m thinking. We’re going to have to send someone in. Preferably a couple people, so they’re not alone. Send them in with securely hidden electronics. Someone with some survival skills that would make great-great-granddad proud.”
My brothers and I snicker. Dad smirks.
“I’m sure we can’t send them in with weapons, so they’re going to have to be resourceful, convincing, and observant. How far off the coast is the island?”
“Roughly a hundred-thirty nautical miles from Mexico,” Dad says.
Voss hums as he considers this.
“You’re thinking about how to get them off the island if our services aren’t needed,” Myro guesses.
Voss nods. “That’s a little far to swim.”
“Likely why they chose it,” Avory points out.
“We need an evacuation plan for our guys,” Voss says. “Preferably before we send them in, since communication with them once there is going to be difficult, if it’s even possible at all.”
“Make sure they’re good swimmers,” Loren says. “There’s going to have to be some swimming involved. Probably to a boat that will pick them up somewhere off the island.”
“Maybe we need to do this in waves,” I say. “Send in one or two people initially. Will we be able to have live feeds?” I look at Voss on the screen. He nods. “Even if we can’t transmit in, we can send someone to the colony with each boat trip, relaying messages, including how they’ll be getting off the island if it turns out the world is freaking out over nothing.”
“It’s a megachurch with a radical, unrealistic agenda,” Ellory says. “There’s something going on, even if the people there are too brainwashed, na?ve, or simply too gullible to see it.”
“Does that mean we make the choice for them whether they stay or are rescued?” Dad muses.
No one answers until, finally, Loren huffs. “No. It means we let them lie in the grave they dug for themselves. You don’t rescue someone who doesn’t want to be rescued. That’s not heroic or serving justice. That’s inserting yourself into someone else’s business without them asking for it because someone else doesn’t like their decisions.”
“That’s the problem with society today, right?” Myro notes. “Everyone has an opinion on how everyone else should be living. Loren’s right. We need to see firsthand what’s actually going on there and have a plan to get our guys out. We can’t be bleeding hearts for these parents.”
“Very well. I’ll get in touch with Oxley and see who he can get to volunteer for this assignment, given our criteria. Voss, send some tech Oxley’s way. In the meantime, see what you can get from satellite images of the island, please. Sources regarding the island say it’s ninety-four square miles, so there’s no way they’re inhabiting all of it.”
Voss nods. “Got it.”
Dad dismisses us, and I tap my phone to find a message from Haze.
Haze
Come over when you’re finished. I’m about to show you my hat trick.
I sigh. I don’t even know what a hat trick is, but I want it. Especially when Haze is the one serving it to me. Getting to my feet, I realize that ‘ serving ’ is probably an inaccurate term for ice hockey, but whatever. I’m a work in progress. Someday, I’m going to master hockey innuendos.
For now, I’m going to get my hat trick.