Page 21 of Booked for Theft (Vigilante Magical Librarians #3)

TWENTY-ONE

If anyone learned the truth, we were all screwed.

As the kittens still needed to pass their health checks and go back to the vet, we left them at home with Ajani before spending the rest of the day with our parents. While I couldn’t ride Sunflower, I took a turn on Majestic, who spooked at the existence of a bucket, tossed me halfway to the moon, and fled in the general direction of his stall. I picked myself up, dusted off, retrieved Bradley’s horse, led him to the offensive metal contraption, and spent more than a few minutes acclimating the animal to its frightening presence.

Once he tolerated the bucket, I got back on, managing to stay in the saddle without taking another flying lesson.

An afternoon of peace helped, and by the time Monday evening rolled around, I held some confidence we might find answers in the piles of papers. Two new boxes of papers, courtesy of Bradley’s mother, had been hidden among a shipment of six more loads of books, all of which counted as felonies if I were to share them with anyone.

On the outside, Bradley’s mother maintained her status as excessive.

If anyone learned the truth, we were all screwed.

After Bradley’s mother left, we went to work. Bradley ordered fried chicken for us to snack on while we sorted papers and attempted to create a plan capable of disrupting hundreds of years of government control. The more I learned, the less I believed we’d win, but I would try anyway. If we did win, millions upon millions of lives would be saved—and improved.

I needed no other reason to put everything on the line.

“How do you want to approach this?”

“I want to find all the memos from President Castillo; the ones we’ve located so far have been fairly damning, so maybe we’ll learn something more from those. Put all financial documents in a pile, anything dealing with campaign operations in a pile, memos in a pile, and charity stuff in a pile. If it doesn’t fit in one of those categories, we’ll decide if it needs a pile of its own.” I snatched one of the memos I had found, which was yet another warning that Senator Maybelle needed to stay in her lane and stop trying to steer her campaign away from the game plan. I waved it in the air. “Memos like this one make it clear that the candidates are not permitted to promote themselves in the way they see fit. It’s all scripted.” I returned the sheet to the pile, searching for the one that’d indicated she would be receiving additional responsibilities. “This memo is interesting; a month into her campaign, President Castillo indicated she might be receiving extra work to adjust for something .”

Bradley took the memo from me, read it over, and nodded. “I have a bunch of those, too. For the most part, they’re similar. It looks like he was sending daily memos to her campaign.”

“So much bullshit and red tape,” I muttered.

“Why don’t you start sorting them by day while I blitz through and pull out as many of the memos from these boxes as I can?” he asked.

I took all the memos, went to one side of the table, and cleared enough space for me to be able to work by month. “That’s a better plan than the one I had.”

“You had a plan?”

“I really didn’t.” Shaking my head, I slapped papers down, wondering if we might really succeed at making progress just from having stolen from—and burned down—a gas station and warehouse. “Does the news have anything interesting in it today?”

Bradley chuckled. “In good news for me, I’ve been checking headlines for all the nearby states for months on a daily basis, so nobody is going to think twice about my behavior if they do check my internet usage. I’ve also been buying numerous newspapers from the stand around the corner after you’ve been going to work.” While I sorted, he searched for evidence of the fire being noticed. “Yep. The fire has an honorable mention in several newspapers. In good news for us, we took precautions—there was a functioning security camera with limited view of the warehouse and gas station on a neighboring building. It spotted a broken down gas tanker, which the driver repaired before leaving. It showed the significant puddle of gasoline unfortunately close to the sparking wire. The initial investigation deemed it to be an accident. The security camera did not catch the license plate of the tanker.”

Sometimes, luck did favor us, although we’d taken many steps to prevent detection. “Your father is a marvel.”

“He really is. Honestly, I’m shocked that worked. The pictures of the building afterwards are spectacular. The explosion scattered the papers, the papers ignited, and the whole thing turned into a bonfire. The pictures just show ash, structural rubble, and so on. The firefighting crews focused on the gas station, which provided a challenge with the fuel left in the tanks. The explosion did a good job of opening the tanks, breaking up the asphalt over the tanks, and otherwise creating chaos. There was minor damage to a neighboring building.”

Damn. “How minor?”

“Three broken windows.”

That wasn’t bad. “Does the article mention if the owner is insured?”

“They’re insured, so try not to worry about it.” Bradley set his phone on the table and resumed sorting through the documents. “This changes everything, though.”

“We thought we were after vigilantes, but we’re not. It might really be government eliminating people who didn’t play to the script.”

“And we don’t even know what their endgame really is,” he muttered. Sucking in a breath, he stared at a sheet of paper, his eyes widening while his face paled.

“What’s wrong?”

“President Castillo sent a memo to Senator Maybelle informing her that she would be assigned most of Senator Godrin’s duties.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What’s the issue with that?”

“It’s dated a week before his death.”

Oh. I joined him in widening my eyes. “And it’s on official White House stationery?”

“It is an official notice signed by the president—and it’s his real signature, as there’s an ink splotch when he dropped the pen. He was in a hurry, and he didn’t want to be dealing with it, but it needed to get off his to-do list. It’s the real deal.”

“Checked it with your magic?”

He nodded.

Damn. “That’s what we needed, isn’t it? It’s proof the government was behind the murder.”

“I don’t know if it’ll stand as proof in a court—not that the court is at all on our side. But it’s definitely something we need to be worried about. It even has the date of his death as when she’ll be expected to take his place.”

How horrible. “What do we do with this information?”

“That’s a good question. Honestly, I think this is the sole piece of information that needs to go to the media—and we need to wait. We need to put at least a few weeks between this turning up at the media and the fire.”

“That will give people some time to forget the headlines,” I muttered.

“And hopefully, people will assume that the memo had surfaced elsewhere.” Bradley eyed the stacks of paper. “Perhaps we can arrange for another theft—or the illusion of a theft—to make people think that theft is where the memo originated from. Perhaps we can check into what happened to Senator Maybelle’s estate?”

“Because if the memo is believed to have been part of the estate , and there’s a robbery of the estate, they won’t think it came from the campaign files. I like it. But how do we get that information?”

“I have no idea. I’ll ask Dad next time I see him and we’re somewhere we can talk. For now, our priority is to go through every sheet of campaign paper to learn what else has been going on. But this is starting to actually make some sense, although I don’t understand why Senator Maybelle was killed.”

I gestured to the collection of memos. “It seems pretty obvious to me. She was not dancing to President Castillo’s tune. She was trying to test the limits—and she stepped over the acceptable line. We might learn which line she crossed from this mess, but it seems pretty clear to me. Crossing the President of the United States means death. But what did Senator Godrin do to earn his execution?”

“That’s a good question. And why was he killed going to your library?”

“Opportunity?” A possibility came up, one that chilled me. “Or, perhaps, one of the military assigned to his murder had recognized me during scouting for the job and wanted to involve me. They mimicked my talent, after all.”

“And if that assassin knew you, the real you, that is, they would also know any accusations leveled at you would rapidly fall apart.”

“Perhaps they targeted me because it was easy to verify I couldn’t be responsible.” I frowned, thinking back on Senator Maybelle’s murder. “But if each group of soldiers was being executed following their assassinations, why shoot me first?”

“My guess is that the military group behind the assassinations is informed, understand they’ve been given a death sentence, and are trying to play their final hand against the government killing them. Loyalty is not going to be strong when their leader is killing them in groups of five or more. And if some of these soldiers are surviving, the risk of retaliation and resentment is high.”

“Yet the government thinks they can get away with it.”

“At this stage, they know they can,” my fiancé reminded me. “Ideally, they won’t realize we’re behind their misfortunes until it’s too late to stop us. Now, if you do win the election, that’s going to create many issues for our engagement activities overseas. The United States government will come and crash our party.”

“And we’ll be on the boat back to the United States when our month abroad is over,” I complained.

“That’s assuming they let you take the cruise ship back. They might not.”

I scowled. “They will be dealing with my choice of cruise, like it or not. We’d be arriving back in time for the inauguration.”

“By a day or two at most, assuming weather holds on the return trip.”

I shrugged. “It’s not like they aren’t going to be aware we aren’t due back into the country until then. If they want an inauguration on their schedule, and the ship hasn’t returned to land yet, they can send a helicopter and record it at sea.”

Bradley laughed. “I see you have decided that it’s your way or the highway.”

“I have never been on a cruise, and I wish to experience it. And if things work out in that fashion, I’m going to need that cruise to fortify myself against the reality of the situation. We could just stay in Europe.”

“If you win the election, I fear our hosts are going to end up tossing you onto the cruise ship personally to make certain sanity is restored to the United States.”

“Are we going to have enough stalls for twenty-five extra thoroughbreds on board the boat?”

Bradley shook his head. “We aren’t. We can fit some of them but not all of them. I’m going to have the extras flown to Europe. I’ll make some calls once all the animals are at your mother’s place. Obviously, we won’t be transporting pregnant mares by air, so we’ll have to hope Sunflower drops her foal in time and that the little one can go on the ship. We’ll have to see. But in the worst case, we’ll have Sunflower and her baby transported as soon as is safe for them.”

I could live with that. “Do you think these memos will sway the public?”

“One way or another, we’re going to find out.”

Over the course of three weeks, with help from Beatrice and Mickey, we sorted through all the papers from the warehouse, uncovering a series of threats, treachery, and betrayal. From start to finish, Senator Maybelle’s campaign had been designated as one meant to divide the people and prevent their votes from truly mattering. Had all gone to plan, she would have become the next President of the United States, and she would have been able to tighten the stranglehold on the people, targeting our culture and religion to do so.

Under her leadership, if we could call it that, she would reform everything. Churches would become the only charities permitted to operate, and anyone seeking aid would have to reliably attend services twice a week. Soup kitchens, shelters, and all other charitable organizations would be forced to close within a year, leaving a vulnerable population with no choice other than to seek out religion.

Then, in the second year of her term, which religions could operate charities would be declared, and all the surviving religions would have to meet several criteria to maintain the charity status.

By the end of her term, only specific churches with the government’s approval would be permitted to remain open. Ancient cathedrals, including St. Patrick’s, would be permitted to maintain their operations. Specific churches with over two hundred years of service to their communities would be permitted to remain open.

Judging from the list Bradley had uncovered, there would be less than five hundred religious institutions permitted to operate across the entire nation by the time everything was said and done.

We also found evidence the government meant to, piece by piece, remove access to places where people might gather in large groups and form close communities. The reality of the situation stole my breath and stoked my anger. It would come to a point where the government wouldn’t even need to stage elections.

They would tell the media who people should vote for, and the people would, due to an inability to gather knowledge, learn from others, and have civil discourse, do as told. Even the ghost of democracy would perish, and not even memories would remain.

Aware we would need to act in a more direct fashion, I reached out to everyone in the cell and requested that we get together, at our home, to discuss some investigative work. The FBI had several open cases for us to pick through, and I intended to use them as covers for our true goal, illuminating the evils of the current regime so it might one day fall.

With luck, that someday would be by the end of the year.

I hesitated to even consider the alternatives.

Then, to help with disguising our intent, I contacted the agents at the FBI to discuss three of the cases, get updated dossiers on them and all parties involved, and request advice on how we, a new cell, might best address the work. The call cost me three hours, but the agents were patient with me, willing to teach me the ins and outs of federal investigations, and how all three cases would be more educative for us than useful.

The FBI already had a team working on it, ready to join forces with us as we drew closer to solving the case.

Experience mattered, and it was a way of allowing us to learn without obstructing justice.

When the Sunday we were to meet rolled around, with February having slipped into March without fanfare, I questioned how we’d get through the next few weeks, let alone until November. As everyone arrived, I longed to hide under the covers and wait for the world to pass me by. The first wave of information had gone to the media, and the news had already broken regarding Senator Godrin’s murder having been planned by the government—and that Senator Maybelle had crossed the line as well, resulting in her death and my injury.

And so the game began, a spark that would either fizzle out and die away or erupt into an inferno destined to change the course of the United States.

Pushing away my misgivings, I introduced everyone to our new kittens, who insisted on attacking Bradley’s feet every other minute. “Please welcome Flufflestiltskin and Tika Meowsala to the cell. They are Ajani’s furry understudies.”

My fluffy goddess, who had spent most of the day chasing, grooming, and otherwise caring for her kittens, slept on her bed in the corner of the dining room, and we took care to keep from waking her. Once everyone was seated, I slapped down the collection of takeout menus. “Before we begin, we will order food, because we are going to be taking out our frustrations on dinner within ten minutes of this talk starting.” I engaged Meridian in a staring contest. “I love you, but you’re going to have to be quieter than any mouse about this. You must be mute, or it ends poorly for all of us.”

“How poorly?” she asked, raising a brow.

I took my finger and mimed slicing it across my throat. “We had the condo searched for bugs yesterday, and we’ve been on alert since the sweep to make certain no bugs were added. So, it should be safe to talk. Bradley, make sure the music is on at the door.”

He left the room, and a few moments later, faint classical music began to play. “Done. We need your help with the financials, and we can’t hide what the financials are about and why. You’re too smart for that. If you talk, we die. And by we, I mean very probably all of us, but Janette above all.”

Meridian glared at me. “What have you done now?”

“Thanks to Bradley’s mother, I’ve been entered into the election as a candidate.” I glared at the woman in question, and to make it clear what I thought about her gambit, I flipped both middle fingers at her. My mother cleared her throat, and I shook my hands to make it clear I was not going to be quieted, not this time. “I have selected a running mate for myself, who shall remain secret at this period in time, and will be throwing some sticks in the spokes of the election.”

Bradley’s mother cringed, and mine slapped her hands to the table and yelled, “You did what exactly?”

“Mom, sit down,” I ordered, snapping my fingers and pointing at her chair.

To my astonishment, she obeyed.

“Mrs. Hampton, you stay quiet, too. This is my rodeo now, and you’re the circus clown until I say otherwise.”

She chuckled but otherwise did as asked.

“Mom, she did it while I was missing as a possible memento on the deadline for submissions. I went through the list of those eligible to be running mates and approached someone, who agreed with my cause. For the moment, I will be keeping the identification of my running mate a secret. In reality, the media has been running a campaign for me. All I have done is decide that I’ll play the game. Mom, Dad, I’m just going to apologize now. I’ve decided the government needs to be burned to the ground, and I started lighting literal fires to make it happen. But my bright and warm career as an arsonist has already borne fruit.” I went to the entry, dug out the stack of newspapers we’d gotten earlier that morning, and returned, tossing the stack onto the table. “Pick what we’re eating first, and then you can all take a turn with the front page to get a better understanding of what we’re dealing with.”

My mother glowered at the pile of takeout menus. “I vote we get barbecue. I’m going to need some bones to gnaw on, it seems.”

“Barbecue it is.” I tossed a pad of paper and a pen to Meridian. “Target Bradley’s wallet without remorse, for we are going to make you quite uncomfortable for the rest of the day.”

“I can keep secrets when it’s truly important, and I respect that you know I only keep them when it’s truly important,” she replied with a smile. “And as I don’t keep unimportant secrets, when I do keep a secret, nobody suspects I have them at all.”

“That is clever, and I appreciate that tactic,” I replied with a grin. “I’m still going to dodge giving you non-critical secrets, though.”

“That is because you’re smart.” She went to work writing down her order before passing the paper to Beatrice. “For what it’s worth, you’d make an excellent President of the United States. You’re smart, you care, and you understand people and their needs.”

“That’s what gave me the idea to enroll her as an official candidate,” Bradley’s mother admitted. “And I had the correct paperwork in hand to legally do it. I did it, and now I have some regrets I did it, I won’t lie.”

“You made the right decision. Meridian, Beatrice and Mickey are already involved, and Mr. Tawnlen is aware we’re up to no good, but you’re going to be brought up to speed. For better or worse, we all need to be fully together in this. If you want to walk, please do. From here on out, what we’re doing is going to be a great deal more dangerous. Just let me know if you want out.”

My boss engaged me in a staring contest, raising a brow. “When aren’t you up to no good?”

“When I’m napping and eating spicy food, probably.” I shrugged. “But at least I’m up to no good for the sake of everybody, right?”

“I suppose, but we’re going to have to have a talk about how much trouble you’re managing to stir up, Janette.”

The pad of paper with the lunch order continued to make its way around the table. I waited until it reached Bradley to sigh. “I’m going to need extra cornbread today.”

“I’ll make sure your needs are met. I’ll go call and place the order. After, we’ll get to serious work.”

“You best buckle up,” I warned my family and friends. “It’s going to be a wild ride.”