She was looking for something on Capitol Hill, which could springboard her into politics or a policy position. Her backup plan was to join the fairly large pool of the recently departed or retired officers working senior positions in the civilian side of the Department of Defense—in or as close to the Beltway as possible. She didn’t want to shut the door on Capitol Hill.
The screen showed one text message, from a number he didn’t recognize. Actually, it was three numbers and a dash, followed by two numbers. Spam or some kind of automatic message update from something he’d mistakenly opted into previously. Nothing from Marnie. He was about to activate the Do Not Disturb feature and put the phone back on the nightstand when he caught a line of the text.
Respond with first movie you saw in the theaters and the first and last name of your first prom date. No spaces. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.
What the hell? The last line was something his mom had said a lot throughout his childhood. They’d watched Star Wars as a family at least a hundred times when he was little, and she’d teased him with that line whenever it was time to do chores or she’d needed him to do something.
Intrigued, he typed HomeAloneEricaCohen and pressed send, surprised by how easily the information from his past had come to him. Now what? The phone buzzed in his hand, startling him. The number calling read Unknown. Seriously? Telemarketing shenanigans had just graduated to the next level. Somehow, they had linked him to one of his mom’s old sayings. Probably something she’d submitted as a challenge question online and was subsequently sold to some data-collection outfit.
But what if this was something else?
Devin accepted the call. Why not? He could always hang up if it was indeed a new telemarketer.
“Hello?” he said.
His mother’s voice answered.
“Devin. If you’re hearing this, something has gone seriously wrong. You’ve either already attended my funeral or I’ve been missing for several days. I triggered this messaging protocol ten days ago, in response to what I either perceived as an imminent, nonsurvivable threat against my life or an attempted kidnapping. Funeral or missing, I’m gone. These people don’t leave witnesses.”
A short pause ensued, followed by: “I need to verify your voice now. After the beep, please tell me the make and model of the car we bought you in high school and then say, ‘I’m really not interested in a new car. Please take me off your list.’”
What the hell? “Honda Civic. I’m not interested in a new car. Please take me off your list.”
The call disconnected. No. No. No. Wait. Did he say something wrong? Shit. He’d forgotten to say “really interested.” Did he really just mess up? A text message appeared a moment later.
Use headphones and click this link. https://dfe740-22GW3.
Interesting. She thought someone might be listening. He got up from the bed and made his way to the kitchen island, where he kept his running headphones in one of the drawers. With the headphones ready, he poured a glass of water to make his trip to the kitchen appear more natural to an outside observer. If they had cameras in his house, it wouldn’t matter. He’d have to sweep for surveillance devices later. On his way back to the bedroom, he clicked the link, which connected him to a voice message.
“Dial or say two at any time if you’re under duress.” A long pause ensued before his mother’s voice continued. “Devin. Sorry to keep this abrupt. I need you to see what I’ve been working on for the past twenty years. I’m not trying to make up for what I put all of you through. I can never do that. Take a look and decide for yourself what should be done with it. To continue this message, input the numeric digits corresponding to the year we took you to see your first Orioles game.”
He didn’t have to think about it, which was probably why his mother had picked it as a security question. They’d taken him the same year their new stadium, Camden Yards, had opened. But the answer contained the number two, which would trigger the duress protocol. She would have thought of that, right? Of course. He tapped “1993,” praying he’d hear her voice again. Mostly because he wanted to hear her voice again. He hadn’t made a decision one way or the other about her proposal.
“Smart kid. Here’s what I need you to do. First: Assume you’re currently under professional surveillance. Trust me on that. If I was even remotely close with my theory, they’ll be watching you closely. Second: Please keep your father and sister out of this. Entirely. Press two to continue.”