Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 47822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
I slid the box free, tucked it in my back pocket, and hurried down the aisle, around the corner, and into the bathroom. Once safely inside a stall with the door locked, I slid the tin from my pocket and popped it open. I lifted off the top and tucked the lid into the base and braced myself for… what? A flash drive? A bloodstained thumb? Uranium? You know, just for kicks.
Nope. Inside the little box was a small phone. Not an old-ass flip phone like I expected, but a sleek, dark rectangle with no brand, already powered up. There was one unread message notification on the screen. In the box, there was a folded sheet of plain white paper and a sealed envelope. The paper was blank except for a single line written in bold Sharpie.
Remember the words. Do not write them down.
Yeah. I remembered.
I opened the envelope and stared at what looked like a find-a-word puzzle, only with no words listed to circle. Also, not all the symbols on the page were numbers or letters. Some were mathematical symbols or hieroglyphs. Yeah. That was hopeless. A small stack of one-hundred-dollar bills tucked inside another folded piece of paper looked at me like an accusation, like I was doing something naughty. I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t get a little thrill with the thought. The second paper had a number written on it. No dashes or spaces and it was too many digits for a phone number. Right. So much for written instructions. I stuffed the paper back in the envelope and tucked it inside my bra. Why? Because I’d always wanted to do that! It was like I was really smuggling something out of the library like a real spy. I giggled. So not telling Maggie about that.
I left the bathroom and, just in case, I put the metal box behind a row of obsolete encyclopedias a few shelves over, figuring that if I was being tailed by hostile librarians they’d have to earn their stripes.
She hadn’t really given me any instructions past finding the box and its contents but I was starting to get a bit of an eerie feeling. Not like I was in danger, exactly, but like maybe I should take Mrs. Walsh at face value until proven definitively otherwise. So, instead of sticking around, I went back to my apartment before I opened the message on that phone.
Call the contact listed in this phone. Use the video option.
I tried to remember if I’d actually committed to doing this, or if I was just being swept along by Mrs. Walsh’s gravitational pull. The only people who had ever really wanted something from me either needed a bath or a ride to physical therapy, not a covert op involving classified code words and burner phones.
But the truth was, I had nothing better to do. Literally nothing. My next shift wasn’t for three days. I didn’t own a car, so I either Ubered or bused everywhere. No long-term friends, no family, no one to say “don’t do it.” And what if it was real? What if Mrs. Walsh had once been the spook she said she was? Was this some kind of generational torch-passing, or did she just want a patsy for plausible deniability? I mean, given the whole no family, no friends situation I certainly fit the profile in either case.
I stared at the phone. The contact hovered, daring me to press “call.” Before I could think better of it, I did.
The phone rang once, then again. I thought it would go to voicemail, but on the third ring the screen flickered to life with the video call I’d just initiated.
For half a second, I almost dropped the phone. The screen showed two men in a small, windowless room. The older of the two had a full face that was deeply tanned and rough with more than a few days’ growth of dark beard. He wore a black long-sleeved shirt rolled to the elbows, his arms crossed on the tabletop like he was expecting a confession. The other man was maybe five or ten years younger than the larger man, with short, dark hair and glacial blue eyes. Neither looked amused and both looked more than a little confused.
“Who is this?” The big one asked. “Where did you get this phone?” Yeah. Not amused at fucking all.
My stomach felt like it dropped through the floor. If I’d caused some kind of trouble for Mrs. Walsh, I’d never forgive myself. “Yeah. Hi. I’m River Brooks.” I gave a little nervous wave before clearing my throat. “The note said to call no longer than ten minutes after I opened it. So… here I am.” When neither man said anything, I continued. “I guess you’re Crush? Or Byte? Maybe?”