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“Fine. Then can we switch it?”
Living out of a hotel was getting intolerable, but so was the stress of their lives. It had taken a toll on all of them. Roth wanted to reassure his sons, but he had no idea when they’d be able to go back to Bozeman. He suspected it wouldn’t be safe until the situation was dealt with, one way or another. Now that he’d launched the new version of his book about the death games, attached it to his author profile online, and amped up the ad spend, their lives could be disrupted for a long time. He went into the little kitchenette and pushed aside a plate of half-eaten breakfast. Then he switched to his e-mail app and saw dozens of new messages had just arrived. The subject line of one grabbed his attention.
I KNEW IT WAS YOU.
Roth felt another twist of unease as he opened the e-mail and read the message.
Dear Ryan Anglesey,
Or should I say, the fabulous Jonathon Roth. I guessed that you were the author of The Jaguar Games. Then you confirmed it. I was going to reach out before but doubted myself. There were certain turns of phrase that gave you away. I love the Merwyn Chronicles. The Jaguar Games makes for an interesting read, too, but I know it’s not fiction. It can’t be. I think the story you told is about your family, including the coma your wife is supposedly in. I work for a humanitarian organization in Manhattan. We’ve seen a lot of people sending money down to Mexico, especially the Yucatán. Large-sum donations. You didn’t specify where the location in the book was, but I think I know. I have a degree in accounting and have learned a few tips and tricks about “following the money.” This money isn’t going to charity. It’s going to shell companies owned by a family called Calakmul. In the book, you called them the Mulak family. Pretty close. These shell companies are very big and very much off the radar of the Treasury Dept. I’ve pieced together a lot of the “what” and the “who” but wasn’t able to figure out the “why” until I read your new book. I have a suspicion that what’s in your book is a trail to understanding this highly illegal operation. Please tell me I’m wrong. Please. This is nuts.
OP
Roth read through it again, a smile spreading on his mouth. Not many people had read his secret book. By changing his name on the book from the pseudonym to his own, it would get sucked into the Amazon algorithms that would expose thousands of the readers of his fantasy books to this new book. This guy had figured it out already before he’d even noticed the change in author.
“Dad, look at this,” Brillante called.
“Just a minute,” Roth said, wondering whether he should respond. Was it a trap by Calakmul’s goons? Were they phishing him by e-mail to see if he’d respond?
“Dad!”
He looked up from the table. The kids weren’t watching a cooking show. They were watching the news. The chyron on the screen said Drama at the West Wing—Bomb Threat Clears White House.
The video footage, taken from outside the White House fence, showed people being evacuated. A man in a dark suit, probably a secret service agent, had a rifle with a shoulder strap and was directing the camera crew away from the fence.
“That’s pretty sus,” Lucas said, staring at the screen.
Roth listened to the coverage for a little while. According to the news, the building had been evacuated because a bomb threat had been called in during a cabinet meeting. The president and vice president had already been removed by Marine One, the executive helicopter.
Something bad had happened. Something he’d tried hard to prevent. They’d attempted to call off the meeting, but no one had listened.
He hefted his phone and called Monica.
She picked up quickly. “Can’t talk right now, Jonathon. Emergency going on.”
“I’m watching the news,” he said. “So the cabinet meeting happened? How many were hurt?”
“I’ll call you soon. It’s bigger than that. Stay where you are. Bye.”
It’s bigger than that?
“Dad, do you know what’s happening?” Lucas asked.
“I don’t. Monica said she was in the middle of it.”
“This is crazy. Did Calakmul try to bomb the White House?”
“I’m not sure. But I’m going to try to find out.”
He went back to the bedroom and pulled out his laptop, the one he’d been using at Starbucks to write his new book and research the ancient Maya.
Bringing it back to the desk in the other room, he told the kids to turn the volume up so they could all hear the broadcast. He typed in his log-in information, and after the computer connected to his burner phone’s data, he opened up a browser using a VPN and looked at some of the chat rooms he followed on the dark web, where conspiracy theorists liked to hang out and speculate. The comment streams were exploding.
My sister works for the Pentagon. It’s not a bomb scare.
Someone tried to assassinate the president.
I saw smoke coming from the west wing.