In this chapter, Ars shows up and some of Church's other friends. They get right to work. Church is starting to struggle again. Let's see if they can help him through this tough time.
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Crown Vic to a Parallel World: Stolen Love The third and final installment of the ongoing adventures of Church Philips
16
Old Friends and the Help They Bring
"Paul Miller, this is Shawn's uncle, Ars Summas. Ars, this is Paul Miller." I introduced the men to each other.
They shook hands and greeted each other warmly, like they'd known each other for years. They were definitely a sight; large Paul in his Andy Philips' reef collection outfit and the much shorter and smaller Ars, wearing a permutation of his regular suit. This time his long cut jacket was lime green with a burgundy collarless pullover underneath and road crew orange pants with yellow heels. Andy had long tried to convert Ars to wearing pieces from his collections, but Ars wouldn't forgo his traditional suits, always in his favorite colors, for anything.
Under any other circumstances the conversation between the two men would have reduced me to hysterics. They kept referring to each other as young man.' The joke was that despite looking decades his senior, Paul was less than half of Ars' age. That fact had not escaped Ars and I assumed that's why Ars referred to Paul as young man' despite his outward appearance.
On the other hand, Ars looked like he was in his well-preserved forties, prompting Paul's use of the generic label, and Ars didn't correct him. I almost interrupted their exchange to break the news to both of them but decided it really didn't matter. I figured there'd be plenty of time to play `getting to know you' once we got Shawn back.
We met in the formal dining room. Bem had retrieved Ars from the airplane hangar and escorted him directly in. Ars waved away any refreshment and said he wanted to, "get to it, as they say."
I didn't like the way he expressed himself. I was worried he would present himself to us as he presented himself to everyone, as Ars the absent-minded, harmless bureaucrat. I'd known that image was a sham for a long time. The man was a ruthless, calculating, borderline psychopath. As much as I didn't like that part of him, that was the part I needed to help Shawn. I hoped he'd drop the mask and be himself.
Ars surprised me by concluding his greeting with Paul and then coming to me with his arms open for a hug. I leaned down to embrace the small man. He hugged me tightly. "We will get him back, and we will make an example of those that took him away." Ars said to my ear.
His confidence helped me. Ars didn't sugar coat anything, not even when he was wearing his bureaucrat mask. If both he and Bem said we'd get Shawn back, then it was a forgone conclusion and all we had to do was follow the steps. That's what I told myself anyway.
Ars released me and moved to take his place at the table. Paul and I moved to the opposite side and Bem took a spot next to Ars. Ars opened the discussion. His voice was deep, almost as deep as Shawn's, and his manner direct. His use of that voice reassured me. I recognized that version of Ars as the real Ars. "What do we know? What have we done? What are we doing?" He asked with none of his usual ponderous speech.
Bem had me build a box of magic around us before he would say anything. I told him it was in place. He acknowledged me with a dip of his chin, sat tall in his chair, and took up Ars' question. "We've paid the ransom and..."
Ars interrupted with a glance my way. "I have already spoken to my sister, young man. My assets are entirely at your disposal. Lenis is including them in her calculations for the total liquid availability for the inevitable second demand." He waved his neat hand in the air like he was waving away a single annoying housefly. "The money is immaterial. They will not have possession of it long enough to spend a single credit." With that assertion made, Ars gave his attention back to Bem who picked up like the interruption hadn't happened at all.
"...and we've turned the airfield lights on per the instructions we received. I've done a preliminary review of the audio and video from the flight recorder data and we will do a more thorough review when the others arrive. What I see so far, bears out the story Met told. A grounded airplane sent an uncoded machine-to-machine distress signal with no voice call. The signal could have come from any plane with a control system made in the last century or so, which means it could have come from almost anything that's in the air today.
"The craft had no external markings and no paint scheme. From the outside, it appears it was a standard model private plane, much like the one belonging to Church and much like your own, Steward. That makes it one of several thousand registered with the Aviation Commission. These planes are built to a standard pattern, much like the cars, and they are almost impossible to tell apart unless they are customized."
Bem shifted in the chair to sit forward, and he rotated his body toward Ars. He rested his right forearm on the table. "I haven't bothered to contact the Commission, because as you well know, these small craft are not required to publish a flight plan. The standard range on one of these models is forty-five hundred miles and the extended range version is six thousand. We don't know which version was used in the kidnapping, because there is no visible difference between the standard range and extended range models.
"The distress signal was received by Shawn at two-eighteen and his plane touched down sixteen minutes later. It took him four minutes to secure the aircraft while Met got the door open and the stairs folded out. Shawn exited the plane after Met, so he was probably abducted two or three minutes later, at two-forty-one. The kidnappers would need a few minutes to secure Shawn and to tie Met into the seat we found him in. Say between three and five minutes for that, then no more than another three to five minutes to get their craft in the air.
"That means they left the scene, likely no later than two-fifty, or for round figures, three o'clock this morning. That's twelve hours ago. What that means, is that Shawn could quite literally be anywhere in the world right now. That's what we know and what we've done."
Bem nodded to Ars like that concluded the required answer to Ars' original question. He took a breath and plowed relentlessly forward with more information. "As for your last question, Steward," Bem continued, "about what we plan to do, that topic is a little more involved.
"Cy and Vulp are on their way here with Neb. Calidi wanted to come but Neb persuaded him to remain at home. I sent them the coordinates of the plane. They're going to stop there first and sweep the craft to check for bugs, or any other foreign devices or programming in the on-board systems. If it checks out, and I think it will, they will fly it here. We will sweep the residence for similar devices and have another conference upon their arrival.
"I want to start interviewing the servants, but because of the rotation, not all of them are here. Cellarius has contacted the agency and requested the entire compliment be here tomorrow to help us with an event. That event will be them getting questioned by me and Vulp with Joe in attendance. Joe will use his power of truth to help me get the answers to my questions and Vulp will be able to check them for compulsion. If someone doesn't show, we will go after them.
"Church," Bem shifted his focus to me, "do you think Andy can handle being present for the interviews without interfering? I'd like him there to read everyone, but I don't want him to say a word."
I knew my nephew well enough that I only considered a few seconds before answering. "He's mature enough to be there if you're questioning strangers. How are you gonna handle Comet?"
"We'll do him tonight." Bem replied. "I want to do the household, minus the servants, tonight. To keep things even and to avoid it looking like we're singling anyone out, Joe and Vulp and I will conduct interviews with every member of the household. We'll present it like we're gathering information and details to assemble a timeline.
"That's a partially true statement. Not only will that keep everyone's feelings from getting hurt, but it's an important step in the process. Vulp will conduct the interviews of Hannah, Leah, Altus, Mary, my father, and me. He should also probably do Andy and Comitis and maybe Joe. I'll do Met, Church, Cellarius, Lenis, and you Paul."
"Me?" Paul yelped and leaned forward in surprise.
Bem's left hand rose to grip his right shoulder, his arm made a vee across his body. His right hand disappeared under the table. I assumed it found its way into his pocket. "Just to keep it even, Paul...to show everyone that we're not playing favorites. I don't expect to learn anything from you. We'll have a five-minute conversation and send you on your way."
Once he'd heard Bem's explanation, Paul sat back and seemed to relax. Bem went on, laying out his plans. "Right now, we have nothing to go on, but we should. This wasn't a simple snatch job. It was done with careful planning, and that planning must have left a trace. We just have to find it and follow it. The team we're assembling is a good one. They're some of the best I've ever worked with, and they have the right motivation.
"We're all a few years removed from this work, but other than the natural evolution of technology, nothing should be any different than what we've seen in the past. I don't think turning this over to the authorities is the right thing to do. Does anyone disagree?"
No one said a word. Bem asked another question. "I have taken the leadership role for this...mission, investigation, rescue, whatever you want to call it. I did that because I was the first one on the scene. Does anyone think someone else should lead? If you do, speak up. You won't hurt my feelings." Bem directed this question at Ars. I assume because Ars was both Shawn's uncle and one of the most powerful men in the country.
Ars shook his head. "You are the right choice. You are close enough to the situation to see the inconsistencies, and as I recall, this is very much your field of expertise. I am not too proud to admit that I would take a rather `ham fisted,' to use a phrase from the Earth, approach to rescuing my nephew. No, I think we are all comfortable with your leadership Mister Custos...excuse me, Mister Ecclesia. More than comfortable. I think I speak for everyone here when I say there is no one I would prefer to lead this team. We all love him, but you have the skills to bring him home."
Bem thanked Ars for his confidence and turned his eyes to me. "Church?" He asked.
I answered the only way I could, by telling my friend how I truly felt. "I trust you, Bem. What's more, if we could ask him, Shawn would say the same thing."
"That means a lot." Bem acknowledged my praise. "Thank you, Church. That's all I have to say until the others get here. Once they arrive, we can start to strategize for tomorrow and beyond." Bem turned his attention to me again. "I'm sorry, but you should know, I think this is going to take time...days, maybe weeks. You need to reconcile yourself to that.
"Don't expect to see him tonight, or tomorrow, or for at least a week. You'll make yourself crazy if you look for him around every turn and if you make yourself crazy, you won't be any good to us. No matter what, don't give up hope and don't give into negativity. If you feel yourself getting overwhelmed, come to us."
My right hand automatically wrapped around my bracelet and squeezed it. I felt that I was doing it but didn't bother to try to control the impulse. Bem's eyes tracked to my hands and returned to my face. "I'm guessing you're already there." He said to state the painfully obvious.
"I'm OK," I lied. "I mean, you know...not OK but...oh shit...I'm not a blubbering mess...yet. I'd be better with something to do but Paul is helping me stay occupied. I'll hold together. I have to...right? I mean...no choice and all, so, yeah. Fuck."
By the time I finished babbling, all three of the men present were staring at me with worry branded on each of their faces. Paul came to my rescue. "I'll stay with him, and I'll let you know if I see things getting...worse."
Bem and Ars thanked Paul, then I thanked Paul. We went once around the room again, but there wasn't much else to cover. Ars wanted to look at the flight recorder data and it was decided not to include me because Shawn's voice was on the recording. That decision dissolved the meeting. I released the magic box so Paul and I could go our way while Bem and Ars stayed where they were.
I checked my phone for the time. The hours seemed to be crawling by. It wasn't quite four yet. Neb and the Dux brothers weren't due for at least another hour. As they were planning to stop at the plane before coming to the house, they might not arrive until after six. I felt like climbing the walls or maybe screaming and hitting things. I looked to my keeper, Paul, and hoped like hell he had an idea.
"Maybe we check on Joe," he thought aloud, "or visit with the young people."
Visit with the young people.' I thought. Andy oughta be good for killing a couple hours. Maybe he can tell us about his plans for the new collection or something.' I told Paul my thoughts and showed him the way.
Before we'd gone more than a few steps, I took my phone out and texted Andy. `Coming to visit with Paul, be there in a few minutes.' I figured that would be the notice he and Comet would need to finish up with what I assumed they were doing and get dressed.
Paul and I spent the next couple hours visiting with my nephew and his boyfriend. Paul received an enthusiastic lesson on Solum fashion trends while Comet made several attempts at comprehending what a priest is, and what he does for a living. Comet also avoided me like I was a leper the entire time we were at their place.
I didn't hear much of what was said. I tried to nod or shake my head or smile in the right places, but I couldn't focus. Nothing the boys talked about mattered to me. I was worried about Shawn.
Andy caught me not paying attention often enough to know I was distracted. I don't know if he was actively reading my thoughts or not. I didn't care. For a long time, whenever I was around Andy, I went out of my way to think of the weirdest shit I could because I knew he usually left his power `on.' I'd seen his face redden or seen him cringe often enough to know that I got to him. At some point, he seemed to grow more cautious about reading my thoughts and I stopped mentally teasing him, unless I caught him doing it again.
All that aside, the visit did what it was supposed to and killed a few hours. After we'd exhausted Andy's conversation, Paul and I drifted away, just in time to greet Neb, Cy, and Vulp. The original plan, from before the kidnapping, had been for Cy to bring his family along with him to meet Paul and to stay on the estate for a few days, but in light of what happened, he'd left them behind.
Cy's kids were all grown and two of them were out of school, but they still liked coming to see us. I'd also come to like Cy's wife. She was the steady one of the pair. Cy could be serious, but only when he had to be. He was the polar opposite of his brother, Vulp, even to the point that Vulp seemed to ground Cy when his wife was not around.
I greeted everyone with as much affection as I could muster, but that wasn't much. I was glad to see them, and happy to have the team back together, but I couldn't express myself very well. It was taking all my energy and attention to keep my mind from falling apart with worry. Something about meeting with Bem and talking with Ars earlier seemed to drive home the kidnapping. Somehow it was more real, official maybe, and therefore more worrisome. No one seemed to take offence at my absent manner or my lack of participation.
As soon as the others got there, they had another meeting with Bem, Ars, Neb, Cy, Vulp, Paul, and me. Lenis was there to talk about finances. They also brought Joe in. He entered the room like a sprinter finishing a run. I assumed his leg muscles, used to hauling around his formerly massive body, hadn't acclimated to the new, streamlined Joe. As a result, they propelled him around like a wind-up toy with too large a spring installed.
After Joe greeted everyone, he paced and bounced around the room with what seemed like boundless energy. The others commented on his weight loss but didn't ask questions. I assumed Met had told someone what he'd done and that someone told the group. I figured Bem was the messenger. Joe didn't say a word to me about the procedure or my role in initiating or powering it. That was fine with me. I was happy to see my brother looking so well and was glad he'd be in shape to help us do whatever needed to be done.
I was asked for a magic box, which I provided, and the meeting progressed along the same lines as the previous one. Many things were said, and many conjectures made. The plane, our plane, was pronounced clean of listening devices or foul play. The next sweep conducted would be that of the house. That activity would take place immediately after dinner and would start with the dining room. Right after that room was cleared, the interviews would start. My one contribution to the discussion was to ask them to start the questioning with me.
"So I can be outside for when Shawn gets back." I explained the reasoning for my request.
"Church," Bem said with a voice that soothed because it knew what it had to say would not be well received, "he's not coming back tonight."
"WHAT THE FUCK ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?" I demanded. The entire group turned their pitying eyes to me, and I hated them for their pity. I took a deep breath, dropped my head in my hands, and spoke to the tabletop.
"Look...look...you all love him, I know you do, but I need him. I need him like I need to breathe the air. Without him, I'm nothing. You all have these things you can do, things that help. What do I have? What can I do? All I can do is wait, so I'm going to go out and wait. In the remote chance he does come home, I'll be damned if he comes home and I'm not waiting for him."
No one spoke. I assumed looks were being exchanged and gestures made, but I didn't look up to see them. My head felt like it weighed about a thousand pounds and the rest of my miserable body felt even heavier. Bem's voice broke the silence. "We'll do your interview first, Big Guy. Then you go wait. If you don't mind, I'll check on you later."
"Fine." I said to the table and the meeting moved on around me.
I'm not sure what was said after my outburst. I didn't hear much after that. I sat with my head in my hands until someone told me food was ready. The servants had apparently come in and loaded the sideboard with dinner while the meeting went on inside my magic box. The rest of the people on the estate were loitering around outside my magic, waiting to be acknowledged. Bem instructed everyone to keep their mouths shut about what was said during the meeting and had me release the magic.
I heard Andy being thrilled about his father's weight loss and I also heard Joe being less than gracious back to his son. I felt myself getting angry with Joe but forced those thoughts aside. I reminded myself that getting the weight off my brother didn't `fix' him anymore than the same thing, when it happened to me once upon a time, fixed me. It made him healthier, but he was just as broken as before. That realization made me sad. Not that I wasn't already sad. I guess it made me sadder.
The room grew noisy and boisterous around me. It was the kind of setting Shawn would have loved. All of our friends and family around us, having fun, enjoying the simple pleasure of eating together. Shawn loved catching up with people in a group setting. It let him sample each relationship, like a bite from a plate of hoers devours, without getting involved in a full life update.
It wasn't that Shawn didn't love all of our friends or enjoy those full life updates when they came. He did. He also liked being surrounded by the people that mattered to him. Getting to `have a taste' of each of them was a treat for Shawn.
I stared into the table, unable to raise my eyes to look at the scene that would have made Shawn so happy. Seeing it would have made him conspicuously absent. As I stared into the table, I was glad it was made of wood instead of glass. Glass would have shown my reflection, and I didn't want to look at it. I felt that my reflection would only show half of me. It couldn't show all of me, because all of me wasn't there. Half of me, the half that mattered, the half that made me a person, was somewhere else.
At some point during the meal, someone shoved a plate of food in front of me and I ate it. I wasn't hungry, but the food was there, and it seemed a shame to waste it. I'm not sure what it was. For what I tasted of it, it could have been a peanut butter sandwich or a turkey dinner. It started as a full plate, and I ate until it was empty and pushed the plate away. Someone came and took it from me. A cup of coffee replaced the plate. I drank that and set the cup down.
Time passed and the room grew quiet around me. "Big Guy," Bem said in a voice that soothed because it knew I wouldn't like what it had to say, "can we talk now?"