Game ON (An Ozzie Novak Thriller, Book 2) (Redemption Thriller Series 14) Page 7

  “And we will finish with our typical scripture reading from Exodus. Everyone join with me now.”

  The group then said in unison, “You shall take the ram of ordination and boil its flesh in a holy place.”

  He smiled as he brought his hands together and lifted them to the sky. “Your patience on our mission will be rewarded,” he said as the beat of the drums again grew louder. “The one I’ve promised, the one who will bring us deliverance, will be unveiled at a time very close in the future. And that is when we will see the return of His essence into our tribe.”

  The group clapped and cheered as he exited the ritual space and made his way back into the hut. Cecelia walked in as he was hanging up his robe. He waited for her response.

  “Another masterful performance. This might buy us a little bit of time. But we cannot fail them. If we do, then that could be the end of Kingdom.”

  17

  The moment Denise and I arrived at the Kona International Airport in Hawaii, we had all of about ten minutes to decide if we wanted to take the very next flight into Los Angeles or do more research and consider finding another flight directly into an airport farther east.

  Our initial research into one part of the riddle had countered what I’d believed for most of my life: that West Virginia was the state that produced the most coal. Remarkably, that honor went to Wyoming. With that uncertainty looming over our decision, we went with the safe bet and took the flight to LAX. We tried doing some work on the flight, but between the constant orders to put up our devices, or move out of the way of the guy at the end of our row so he could use the restroom or pass him food or another drink refill, it was basically wasted time.

  Well, not exactly. Both of us got in some needed shut-eye. When I awoke, Denise was drooling on my shoulder, and she had one hand on my crotch. I was sure the two events were completely unrelated.

  Once we landed, we camped out in TGI Fridays, ordered an assortment of appetizers and a carafe of water, and went to work.

  I brought my phone to eye level. “I’ve pulled up the list of flights leaving LAX into the continental US for the next twelve hours,” I said, taking a bite of celery.

  “So that’s how you keep the washboard abs?” Denise said, pulling apart a stick of fried cheese. “Eating like a bird?”

  “Birds don’t eat celery. It will kill them. If I don’t eat something remotely healthy, I get grumpy.”

  “Oh, so the great Oz does have a flaw.” She raised an eyebrow — one that wasn’t all that playful.

  “Funny.” I would have hit her with a sharp comeback, but now wasn’t the time. I was just happy she’d picked up a couple more hours of sleep. The tug on her emotions had been taking its toll. Somehow, she looked even thinner than when I first saw her. Hopefully the feast of fried foods could add a little meat to her bony frame.

  “I’m ready to go.” She wiped her hands on her napkin, then opened the browser on her phone.

  I pulled out the note, and she eyed the piece of paper like it might reach out and slit her throat. “It’s okay. I just think we’ll want to reference the riddle a few times as we narrow down our options.”

  A shadow crossed her face, and the hint of perkiness was wiped away. I tried to keep the energy positive and focused on the facts.

  “The riddle has three basic pieces. The mountains surge to the heavens, the coal runs deep, and the tribe became one.”

  “No clue what the hell is meant by that ‘tribe’ shit,” she said, picking up a piece of celery, then dropping it back on the platter without taking a bite.

  “That’s the toughest one. Let’s get back to the coal question first.”

  “I have the site pulled up right here. Top ten coal-mining states in the country. I already told you Wyoming was number one, but do you know by how much?”

  “Hit me.” I sipped my water; then I realized how dehydrated I was and chugged until the ice clanged the side of the cup.

  “Almost four times more coal is produced in Wyoming than in West Virginia, the number-two state on the list.”

  I strummed my fingers on the table. “I wonder which of those states on your list have mountains.”

  “Kentucky?”

  “You don’t sound so certain.”

  “I’m not sure if the state has mountains. I’m not great with geography. Numbers, yes; geography, not so much. I know they have horses. I dated a guy for a while whose family owned a horse-breeding farm.”

  In a normal setting, I could see us sharing a lot of our past lives, but right now any new information was nothing more than cute anecdotes. “I know the Appalachians run through Kentucky. Probably not the tallest mountains, but lots of trees. Very pretty, from what I recall.”

  “You’ve been there?”

  “Took a road trip through the east with some friends when I went to law school at Georgetown.”

  She nodded.

  Another anecdote that we’d have to ignore for now. Maybe later, once we had Mackenzie back, we could all share stories. I hooked my hope onto that thought.

  “Any other states on your coal-mining list that have mountains?”

  “Pennsylvania is number four, Illinois number five, Montana at number six, and Texas at number seven.”

  “Okay, stop right there. We both know that outside of the Hill Country, Texas is as flat as this table.”

  “Good point.” She held up a finger, then tapped her screen about a dozen times in four seconds. Then she reached over and grabbed another cheese stick. It was obvious she was waiting for a browser window to open.

  “Okay,” she said, chomping on the last of her cheese stick. “The highest mountain in Wyoming is Gannett Peak. Almost fourteen thousand feet high. Fremont Peak is only two hundred feet shorter. On and on the list goes.”

  She tapped the screen again, then took a quick drink. “Okay, on to West Virginia. Their highest peak is forty-six hundred feet.”

  “The Allegheny and Shenandoah mountain ranges,” I said.

  “Your law-school trip?”

  I nodded.

  “I’m not impressed,” she said, arching an eyebrow.

  “Don’t worry. Most girls aren’t.” Before she could laugh, I said, “Moving on.”

  “All right, Kentucky is nipping at the heels of West Virginia, about five hundred feet behind. Black Mountain—that sounds ominous—comes in at just over forty-one hundred feet.”

  “What about Pennsylvania? Probably not much there, right?”

  “Eh. More than Texas. Highest peak is thirty-two hundred.”

  “Refills on your water?”

  We both turned to the waiter. He could have been me ten years ago. “Sure, thanks.”

  He did his thing and gave us back our personal time.

  “If we stick with the facts, Wyoming is number one in both categories,” Denise said. “You want to start looking for flights into— Wait. What’s the largest city in Wyoming?”

  “Cheyenne,” I said, scanning the list of flights on my phone. “Earliest flight is tonight, about ten hours from now. But I don’t think we should book the flight until we figure out the answer to number three.” I let that sit there for a moment, then, “Let me amend that statement.”

  She gave me a mock salute. “Sure thing, Counselor. You may proceed.”

  I smirked. “Anyway, we can’t look at these as three separate and equal pieces. The piece we have no real clue how to tackle—the cryptic notion about a tribe becoming one—could be the only thing that matters to these people.”

  She let her arm drop to the table. “What do we expect to find when we get to this place…if we can ever find it?”

  “While you were sleeping on the plane, I was wondering the same thing.”

  “I mean, is Mackenzie just going to be standing at the top of a mountain with a note attached to her saying, ‘Here you go’? Or are we going to find a camp setup, or even a town?” She curled her lips inward. She was stressed because she couldn’t envision how this would work.
I couldn’t either.

  “One step at a time, Denise. We’ll figure it out, though. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  “So, we know the leading candidates for tall mountains and coal production.” I looked at the note again. “Tribe became one. I wonder if this is where we have to get more specific. City, town, community…”

  “Or peak?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Should I look up Native American tribes and their locations?” she asked.

  “Sounds too literal, but the process of elimination might be the most prudent way to make progress.”

  She typed in her search keywords.

  A moment later, “Holy shit.”

  “What?”

  “Did you know there are five hundred sixty-two tribes, bands, nations, pueblos, rancherias, communities, and Native villages in the US?”

  “What’s a rancheria?”

  “Fuck if I know.” She puffed out a breath. “Good news, though. Almost half—two hundred twenty-nine—are located in Alaska.”

  “And the bad news?” I asked.

  “The remaining ones are spread through thirty-three other states.”

  “Ouch.” I took another bite of celery and went back to the note. The key to a riddle was trying to understand the meaning behind all of the words. But how obvious or obscure was the answer? Was it at a second-grade level or doctorate level?

  “Why are you shaking your head?” she asked.

  “Didn’t know I was.” My eyes were diverted by the man behind Denise, who had picked up his newspaper and was trying to fold it back to its original form. He looked like he was wrestling an amoeba.

  “What are you staring at?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I think we need to start searching for tribes or words that say something about When the tribe became one. That’s an event. It could have been in the news.”

  Denise put in the search terms and waited. “Okay, when I enter ‘tribes,’ all I get is generic information like I’d shared earlier. How many there are, where they’re located, blah, blah blah.” She kept her eyes focused on the screen and did a second search. “I changed the search to ‘tribe news,’ and…” She dropped the phone to the table, sat back, and crossed her arms, her face painted with frustration.

  “What?”

  She nodded toward the phone. I turned it around, looked at the screen, and found a number of stories on the Cleveland Indians baseball team. I tapped over to the second page of results. “There seems to be more stories about actual tribe news—not baseball related—here on page two and going forward. We could click on each of these stories.”

  “Did you see how many results came back? Over twenty million. We don’t have time to validate twenty million links. Even if it’s twenty thousand or two thousand, that will take us hours and hours. We’re not getting any closer. Fuck!”

  We needed to adjust our strategy. I had to figure out how.

  18

  While Denise went off to the ladies’ room, I stayed in my seat and immersed myself in the riddle. I must have read it another twenty times, pausing on each piece of the riddle, then studying how specific words from the three components of the riddle might be related.

  I rubbed a hand across my face as I sat back and looked around. Droves of travelers hustled past the open café. Kids trying to keep up with their parents. Some pouting; others actively crying. I saw one toddler in his dad’s arms, smacking his dad in the face.

  Parenthood. Was I ready for it? Mackenzie was well beyond the terrible twos. She was nine. I wondered how close to ten she was. Was that a big deal, having that first double-digit birthday? I knew my whole mindset would have to change. Once I found her. But what would she say to me? I’d never asked Denise if she’d told Mackenzie about me. Surely, she would have wondered who her dad was…where he was. Maybe Denise made up a story of some deadbeat dad. I would ask, but only when the time was right. Which wasn’t now.

  My sights went back to the man reading his newspaper, USA Today. He looked like a business traveler. A closed laptop was on the table. He was wearing reading glasses that were a little off-kilter. Probably because of his nose, which was crooked. I had a friend in high school who’d broken his nose when he dove for a football and rammed his nose into his brother’s head.

  That could have been me and Tobin. We clowned around a lot as kids. Now he was off conquering the startup world. Part of me couldn’t wait to get back to Austin, to show off my new daughter to everyone. But there were as many questions back there as there were outside of my home bubble, starting with Nicole. She was living in our home. She’d had an affair for the last two or three months. Hell, we’d only been married six months. She had been the center of my world, the love of my life. Or so I’d thought. But I could see that changing with Mackenzie entering my life. Any other thoughts of Nicole and where we stood would have to wait.

  Then something leaped to the front of my mind: Who says Mackenzie would live in Austin? Denise might want to stay in Hawaii. The thought of that looming discussion twisted my stomach into a major-league knot.

  A headline from the man’s newspaper snagged my gaze: “Televangelist Files for Bankruptcy: Says Followers Will Bail Him Out.”

  I looked back at the riddle. Where the mountains surge to the heavens. If taken literally, heavens could be a religious reference.

  Heavens.

  Denise arrived at the table, and I shared my latest thoughts.

  “Damn, that’s why your parents paid big bucks for you to go to law school.”

  For whatever reason, her comment triggered a question about my real parents. Too much to deal with for now, so I pushed the thought aside and watched Denise go to work with various searches.

  “Have anything yet?” I strummed my fingers on the table, twice as fast as last time.

  “Now who’s the impatient one?” she said, her eyes never leaving her phone.

  She started mumbling as she reviewed search results, but I wasn’t paying much attention. I was too focused on my latest idea—“heavens” and what that could mean.

  Then I shifted my eyes to the last piece of the riddle. “Where the tribe became one,” I said out loud. Tribe. Wait. That was a term found in the Jewish religion. I was Jewish. Well, I hadn’t been to temple in years. My parents had Jewish roots going back to Poland. They were never embarrassed by those roots, and they really played them up in certain social circles. While growing up, it seemed like a bit of a farce, but I went with it. Just like everything else with my adoptive family.

  I blinked and retrained my thoughts on the two words I believed might be connected. “Hey,” I said, tapping my hand on the table.

  “Hay is for horses.” With her eyes still glued to her phone screen, Denise started to smirk but never quite got there. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  “Let’s change the search terms. Try ‘heavens’ and ‘tribe’ together. We need to focus on potential ties to religion.”

  She glanced up. “Religion.”

  “You a nonbeliever?”

  “In God or you?” Now she smiled.

  “Good one.” I explained the connection of “tribe” to Judaism.

  She nodded while munching on a nacho. “I would have never made that association. But I like the thought. Give me a second.”

  A second turned into a minute.

  “And?”

  “And you’re impatient.”

  I leaned forward and set my elbows on the table.

  “I can feel your breath on me.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” I realized how flirtatious that sounded the moment the words left my mouth. I didn’t feel that way about Denise. It was more the bond I felt from learning that we shared a child.

  “That guy next to me on the plane had breath that could have bored a hole through steel. So, comparatively, your breath is like a fresh mint.”

  “Thanks.” I drank from my cup of water and leaned back.

  She told me that the top search results fo
r “heavens” and “tribe” were related to Beast Tribe Quest, some type of online game.

  “Are you serious?” I asked. I rubbed my face again.

  “Like a heart attack.”

  I paused for a second. I hadn’t told her about my dad and his death from a heart attack, even if one of his long-time associates had killed him. Of course, she’d claimed his heart was about to stop anyway. I got past it. “The gaming community. There are some real nutjobs in that world.”

  “And more importantly, could they really be with the yakuza?” she asked, a hand to her chin.

  I opened my mouth, but she spoke first.

  “That was a rhetorical question. I know Keo and that Kapule guy said there could be splinter groups, even suggesting that younger members of the crime organization could be involved.”

  “Yakuza and online gamers are like this, don’t you know?” I joked, crossing my fingers. “Honestly, at this point, I have no idea. And to think this all started because you found evidence of money laundering. It’s hard to fathom.”

  Her shoulders dropped. “Are you thinking the yakuza may not be involved?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe Hulama’s contact, Kapule, was telling the truth when he said he couldn’t find any evidence that his group was behind this. I know it sounds strange when ‘truth’ and a yakuza member are mentioned in the same sentence.”

  She pushed a lock of hair out of her face, her eyes searching for a place to land. She was questioning this whole process. So was I.

  “Look, we’re sitting in LA, and we’ve got a note in front of us that could be the key to getting Mackenzie back.”

  “You said could.”

  She was looking for absolutes. In this twisted nightmare, I didn’t see a single one. But I couldn’t give her the glass-half-empty perspective. She needed hope.

  “I don’t know what these people are thinking, or their motivation. They haven’t asked for money. If they had other plans for Mackenzie—the types of things we really don’t want to think about—then I can’t see them reaching out and giving us this note.”