Finding Gideon(128)

She said, “Just when I had you to myself.”

She gradually let me go, let me go to the electronic leash.

The message was coded. It had bounced through a dozen servers in twice as many countries. I turned on an app and decoded the gibberish.


You don’t know me but I am identified as MX-401. It is possible that I may need your assistance in liberating MX-999, the man you know as the Bajan. I will know within the next five to seven days. This is to put you on notice that your skills and help may be needed. Please advise.

The West Indian man who had saved my mother and brothers was in trouble. Like I had been in trouble, the Bajan had problems.

Shotgun had never turned his back on me.

I would be the same way with the Bajan.

I replied. SEND CONSULTATION FEE. A REPRESENTATIVE WILL CONTACT YOU FORTHWITH.

Ten seconds later the phone buzzed again.

I didn’t have to pick it up.

I knew the message. FUNDS TRANSFERRED.

My anxiety level jumped from level 4 to level 7.

Whoever the fuck MX-401 was, he was unknown to me.

He was on the Bajan’s team. That was all I needed to know. I would go now if I could, if I was needed. They would contact me soon.

That meant I needed to rush and take care of business in Yerres.

Maybe I never should have invited Lola Mack and Mrs. Jones to Paris and gone to Yerres six days ago. I could go bundle up, walk out into what was once called Paname by the locals, and Lutecia by the Romans.

Yerres and the secrets it held were why I had come back to France.

Hawks had turned over the right stones. It felt like she had turned over a boulder. That boulder was on my shoulders the way Atlas held the world. The information she had, she had given it all to me months later.

She had found what could be my birth certificate.

I was born in France. I was born in Yerres.

Birth certificates don’t have photos. Birth certificates have the name of the subject at birth, the date of birth, place of birth, parents’ names, file date, and tell if it was a live birth, tell if it was a multiple birth.

What Hawks gave me said I was born a twin.

It said that both twins were born alive.

The truth of truths could be in Yerres.

When I looked in that direction, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. My guts were telling me that there was trouble. I detected danger. Had no idea what kind.

It scared me. Someone had run my mother out of Yerres.

And I might have a sibling.

One war ended, and another always rose to take its place.

I held a mature woman in my arms, but looked at my reflection.

Behind us, Lola Mack asked, “Are you leaving?”

She was on her side. Watching us. Her lips pulled in.

Lola Mack frowned. “I heard that special phone vibrate.”

Mrs. Jones whispered, “He’s leaving us again.”

I said, “Yerres. Need to get there as soon as I can.”

“Then you’ll come back? We want to keep you safe.”

“Then I have to go off to parts unknown to work.”

“From danger to danger.”

“Yeah. Danger to danger.”

“Without us.”

“Without you.”

Lola Mack took a deep breath, looked unhappy as she rose from the bed. She moved around bags and luggage, stepped over the results of our shopping spree, came to Mrs. Jones and me, put her arms around us.

Lola Mack said, “Mrs. Jones, you hold on to one of his legs and I’ll hold the other. We should hobble him like they did Kunta Kinte.”

I kissed Mrs. Jones; then I kissed the tears on Lola Mack’s face.

As Paris began to rumble, as the rising sun broke through winter smog and reflected against the whiteness of snow, silence covered us.

I wouldn’t leave them abruptly, not the way I had before. Not the way I had left Angelina Maldonado at the End of the World. Angelina hated me. I could tell she would always hate me.

Hawks was gone. Arizona was in my rearview.

Lola Mack and Mrs. Jones kept me anchored.

I would stay with them as long as I could.

Yerres would have to wait a little longer. The truth wouldn’t change. Truth was concrete, fixed. Only lies changed with every conversation. Thelma’s truth would be there whenever I arrived.

Many had tried to kill me. And I had killed more warriors than a soldier did in a war. Because of Mr. Midnight. Because of Medianoche’s rage. Medianoche. His name would be forever etched into my brain.

I had already killed a monster. Monsters. I wasn’t ready to shake awake another one. Because even the first monster wasn’t fully dead.

The packages from DNA Solutions were back. Had been back a while. Both were in FedEx boxes at the home in Powder Springs.

They were locked in the panic room in the basement.

X.Y.Z.

The answer to my brother, the Beast, and me was there.

And there was A.B.

The answer to Medianoche and me was there.