The Call - Michael Grant [24]
“Wow!”
“At one time the contents of that strongbox were worth almost a billion dollars.” Rose sighed and sat back. “Unfortunately, the bank used some of that money to invest in shopping malls and hedge funds. So now, all that’s left is one million, seven thousand, eight dollars.”
“What happened to the seven thousand eight dollars?” Mack asked suspiciously.
Rose smiled and made a sweeping gesture with her manicured hands that encompassed all that was Rose Everlast. “This look doesn’t come cheap,” she said.
“Totally worth it,” Stefan said.
Mack fingered the credit card. “Why me?”
Rose shrugged.
“Do you know an old dead-looking guy named Grimluk?”
Rose shook her head.
“You ever hear of the Nafia?”
“The Mafia?”
Mack shook his head. “Never mind.” He glanced at Stefan. “You don’t have to do this, dude.”
“You’re under my wing, man,” Stefan said. “That is, like, sacred. Besides—a million bucks?”
Rose drew an oblong folder from the outer zip pocket of the case. “Your tickets.”
Mack took them. “Where are we going?”
“I can only tell you the first stop. There you are to find a person, a child like yourself. I don’t know who the person is. And I don’t know how you are to find this person. My instruction was simply that you go.”
“Just go someplace and find some person?” Mack said skeptically. “You realize that makes no sense?”
“Yes. I do. But to be honest, no part of this makes sense to me. But it seems to make sense to those who control this account.”
“Well, that’s just great,” Mack said. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be sarcastic.”
“You have to get this person to join you. Together you’ll find the next member of the group. And so on.”
This both disturbed and reassured Mack. Disturbed because he didn’t like meeting new people. Reassured because hopefully this person would be able to explain to him what was going on.
“So where is this kid?” Mack asked.
“Australia.”
Mack stared at Rose. He thought of a couple of things to say, none of them polite.
“Sweet,” Stefan said, grinning. “I heard kangaroos can box.” He interlaced his fingers and cracked his knuckles. “I am going to kick me some kangaroo butt.”
* * *
DEAR MACK,
HI, IT’S ME, YOUR GOLEM. I’VE DECIDED TO KEEP A DIARY FOR YOU SO THAT YOU WILL KNOW EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED WHILE YOU WERE AWAY.
I WILL CONTACT YOU ONLY IF I HAVE AN EMERGENCY BECAUSE GRIMLUK TOLD ME YOU WOULD BE VERY BUSY FLEEING FROM ALMOST CERTAIN DEATH.
BUT DON’T WORRY: IF YOU SURVIVE, YOU’LL FIND EVERYTHING HERE JUST THE WAY YOU LEFT IT. AND YOU’LL BE ABLE TO READ ALL ABOUT MY ADVENTURES BEING YOU.
YOUR FRIEND,
GOLEM
* * *
Thirteen
Mack and Stefan flew from Flagstaff to Los Angeles without incident. Mack had taken the trip before, but it was Stefan’s first time on a plane. The idea that cars looked like toys from an airplane was new to him.
Mack spent his time brooding about the bizarre turn his life had taken.
Los Angeles International Airport was quite a bit bigger than the Flagstaff airport, and they got lost while trying to track down a haunting cinnamon smell. It took them quite a while to locate the Cinnabon, where they tried out the new credit card and found that it worked.
It worked quite well.
So they found a luggage shop and bought two very nice carry-on bags, and then it was off to the Hudson News shop, where they proceeded to fill their new bags with boxes of See’s Candy, bags of Cheez-Its, and plenty of sodas. In case they needed a change of clothing, each bought a souvenir T-shirt.
Mack’s T-shirt read THE OFFICE. Stefan’s read LAPD.
They packed these away. Mack also bought a book, and Stefan bought a magazine with lots of pictures and very few words.
Then they used their iPhones and credit card to sign onto the airport Wi-Fi and downloaded some tunes.
Even after all that, they had a lot of time to kill. The flight didn’t leave until ten thirty at night. So Mack used the time to go online and research the Nafia.