Jack.01.Secret.Histories.2008 by Wilson F Paul

Author:Wilson, F Paul [Wilson, F Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0100-12-31T22:00:00+00:00

10

Now I am acting like a boy detective, he thought as he crouched in the shadows of the Brussards’ yard. How lame is this?

But so what? He had nothing better to do. TV offered only summer reruns anyway.

The man he’d seen with Mr. Brussard last night had dropped dead, and now this Vasquez guy they’d mentioned shows up. He sensed something going on, but couldn’t say what.

No way he could talk to his folks about it—they’d think he was crazy.

Hey, Dad, there’s this thing called a klazen that’s killing members of the Lodge and Mister Brussard thinks he can protect people against it but he’s not doing too well.

Right. That would fly—right out the window. They’d be rubberizing his bedroom.

He knew he should mind his own business, but he couldn’t. He told himself he wasn’t out to solve a crime or anything—wasn’t trying to be the Hardy Boys—he simply wanted to know.

He had a good view of the front of the house from here. He’d watched the three of them enter, and now he saw the two men step into the den. After a moment or two of hesitation—what if he got caught?—he steeled himself and crept forward to peek through the open window.

Mr. B and Vasquez stood facing each other. Steve’s father cradled an open humidor in one arm and was placing a little red box in Vasquez’s hand.

He heard Mr. B saying, “Well, here it is, Julio. I tried to help Sumter and Haskins, but I don’t think they believed the klazen was such a real threat. Don’t you make the same mistake.”

Some of what followed was garbled as they turned away from the window—then he heard him say, “… tomorrow at dawn, face your back to the sun, and use it.”

Use what? Was the “it” in one of those little red boxes? Jack was dying to know.

The rest was garbled as well. Next thing he knew, Mr. Brussard was leading the assemblyman out of the room. Jack darted back into the shadows and watched the front door. He saw that strange handshake followed by good-luck wishes, and then they parted.

When Vasquez was gone, Jack crept back to the window and stared at the humidor.

What was in it? More little red boxes? And what was in them?

Not knowing was making him crazy.

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