Page 22 of Booked for Theft (Vigilante Magical Librarians #3)
TWENTY-TWO
“The next time we order Chinese, you will pay.”
I passed out the newspapers blasting the government for the premeditated murder of Senator Godrin, and to make it clear who had been behind the tip off, I retrieved the memos, which we’d stashed in our closet. Once the meeting was over and we established the severity of the situation to everyone in the cell, the papers would disappear into our walls, preserved until they were needed once more.
Mr. Tawnlen whistled, and as the first to express any reaction whatsoever, I handed over the damning notes indicating when, where, and how the military personnel had been eliminated following their assassination of unwanted politicians and government staff.
“How did you get this?” my father asked.
“There are still a few good men and women left in the government, and they felt I was the best custodian for this information. Honestly, I won’t be at all surprised if they’re killed next. The government seems quite adept at tracking down who works against them and making certain they disappear. It just happens Senator Maybelle’s campaign information had been abandoned in an old warehouse, falling through the cracks. The staffer responsible for the storage of those documents will likely be targeted next.” I allowed some of my misgivings to emerge in both tone and expression. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do to save them.”
Mr. Tawnlen reviewed the list of names, causes of death, and dates, and after a few moments, he nodded his agreement. “You’re likely right. This does explain a great deal about everything we failed to piece together about the murders, though. This level of obstruction is practically impossible to pierce without outside assistance. And no, I don’t want you to divulge your sources. What we don’t know can’t hurt them or you. That’s not a slight against anyone here, but the less we know, the better off we all are.”
“How is that going to work if we’re trying to expose the government’s crimes?” I asked, unable to keep the exasperation out of my voice.
“We don’t need to know a whole lot to help you. We just need to know where we need to be, when we need to be there, and what our specific tasks are. Do we have any other targets?”
“Just one, and we have an October deadline for figuring out what the address is for. It’s another warehouse, but I have no idea what’s inside.”
“After this media reveal, it’s probably a good idea to let that sit for a month or two,” my boss replied with a frown. “Do you have any other information?”
“The tip suggested that we make the warehouse and its contents disappear.” I excused myself, went to my office, and grabbed my box of newspapers from my closet, thumping it onto the table before pulling out a few that included references to the fire, handing them to Mr. Tawnlen for review. After reading it over, he handed it to Meridian. “I wasn’t really expecting to become an arsonist, but if we need to make the contents disappear, then we need to make the contents disappear—after reviewing everything inside, of course.”
“We’ve been photographing and burning everything that isn’t critical,” Bradley announced. “We have memory chips with several copies of everything in digital format, hidden in a place that’ll be rather difficult to uncover. And no, we won’t be telling any of you where the hiding places are at, just that the files are as safe as we can make them right now. Once you’ve reviewed all the memos, those will be hidden as well.”
I did not look forward to removing everything out of our closet, removing the baseboard, accessing the wall, and sliding up all the papers. Bradley had handled acquiring the charmed envelopes, which would keep pests out of the documents for at least a few years before we needed to take everything out and renew the magic. “This way, if something does happen, we’re the only ones taking the fall for it.”
While my parents scowled, they ultimately offered their approval with a nod. My mother sighed. “I would rather you not take these sorts of risks, but we’re to blame for your tendencies. We raised you to help. Had I known how dangerous being helpful could be, I would have tempered your natural tendencies a little better.”
I raised a brow and regarded my mother, hoping my expression conveyed how unimpressed I was with her statement. “You raised me just fine, thank you.” Shaking my head, I picked up one of the newspapers from this morning, rereading the article. “It’s funny. All we did was take pictures of the memos, put them on hundreds of memory chips, and mail them to media outlets. We named a file with a message to distribute to all other media outlets.” I held up the newspaper, which had been one of the ones we hadn’t sent the chips to. “This one proves the media has a base desire to work together on this issue. We didn’t reach out to them.” I considered the article again, marveling over how much research work the reporter, who hadn’t been named, had done in such a short time. “Mr. Hampton helped with the mailing part. One of his illusionists disguised the envelopes, took them across the country, and mailed them from a primary distribution center. Nobody will be able to tell how the envelopes got to the distribution center, only that they were in the pile to be sorted and shipped. It took a few days for everything to make it back to the east coast, and we may have dated a few of the files with today’s date, hoping they would understand what we wanted. It seems like they did.”
“The illusionist, who will not be named, left for Europe yesterday, and she will be staying there until it is safe to return—if it is safe to return. She will be meeting with Dr. Castor to give an update on our progress, including regarding Janette’s status as an eligible candidate.” Mr. Hampton grimaced. “Sorry, Janette. I went over your head on that one, as I knew about it and have been tracking the media’s cultivation of your reputation. Someone in the media has realized you’re a valid candidate; there’s no other explanation for why they’re consistently bringing you up in a positive light. They are not allowing the American people to forget you exist, and they’re cultivating you to be a heroine a little more every day.”
“You are a bad person, Mr. Hampton. The next time we order Chinese, you will pay.”
“It could be worse, Dad. She could be ordering Indian. The Chinese is mild comparatively. She sobs over the Indian food.”
“I appreciate your mercy, and I will come prepared to suffer through at least a few bites for my contribution to this mess.”
I nodded my acceptance of his surrender. “It is settled. The Hamptons all pay for this travesty in some fashion or another. You’re off the hook for the moment, Mrs. Hampton. You brought books.”
“We should probably work on your status as readily bribable when books are involved.”
“All you received is some forgiveness for putting me in this situation, and you have to keep renewing your bribes, else the goodwill ends,” I replied with my sweetest smile. “You can bring over more of your library tomorrow.”
“Do you even have any room left in your office?” Bradley’s mother complained.
“I have enough room for at least a few more boxes of books, especially if they count as felonies.”
“I have so many felonies in my possession that we have five storage units to hold them all.”
I stared at her, well aware storage units could be sized from a closet to larger than the condominium. “How big are the units?”
Bradley’s father laughed at me. “They’re large ones. Every single librarian, janitor, and staffer at the Library of Congress packed out the heaviest box they could carry and did this for three straight weeks. Willamina was the only one willing to be caught with the collection, so everyone came to the storage units and deposited their boxes. It’s a lot of books.”
“Please tell me how many books.”
“Janette, darling, the number would send you straight into a panic attack,” he warned me in a gentle tone. “What happened at the Library of Congress is why we have been working to make sure if we do have a chance to change everything, you’re the one who rises to the top. You’re the only person who can at this point. This isn’t a new problem. You’re a new solution to an old problem.”
I sighed. “Please tell me.”
“Before the purge, the Library of Congress had over fifty million books, with a total of well over two hundred million items total, including smaller publications,” Bradley’s mother informed me, and she grimaced. “At the time of the purge, there were just over five thousand eligible employees working for the Library of Congress, all of whom were allowed to take out one box of books per day for three weeks. We managed to get the janitors, electrical staff, and so on also included on the roster of those allowed to take titles. On average, we pulled out fifty books per person, per box every day for three weeks. We rescued five and a half million books, all of them old, rare, or banned when the AD calendar had been in use. That worked out to be roughly half the collection of books slated for destruction, and we don’t know what happened to the rest. I assume the government burned them.”
Bradley’s mother owned five and a half million books, all of which were over four hundred years old? “We’ve lost so much.”
She nodded. “We have. We saved the entirety of the rare and antique book collection, so it’s not all lost. I even got special permission to take out the entirety of the antique musical manuscripts that were going to be axed, citing how much my son loves classical music.” She turned her attention to Bradley. “We’ll go to the warehouse storing those, and you can bring a few home to join your new pieces. We didn’t tell you it existed because part of the agreement regarding the collection was silence on its removal. We could either be silent or we could watch everything be destroyed. We opted to remain silent. By law, the gag order had to be dated. The gag order expired on the first of this year. That gag order included gifting the books to anyone. We’ll still remain quiet about what happened to the Library of Congress until you’re elected and inaugurated, should that happen. Once you are able to safeguard the books, most of them will be returned to the library. I will be keeping my favorites, and I suggest that you do as well—but we will have copies made of those books so everyone can enjoy them.”
“What about the more modern books?”
Bradley’s mother smiled, retrieved her purse, and dug out a small box, which she held up. “The rules were a box per person per day, Janette. There were no rules on format. I have the entire digital record of the Library of Congress before the purge, and I’ve made numerous copies of it. Every single digital book to enter the Library of Congress from the beginning of the digital archive record to the purge are held on these memory chips. Every single book that was officially copyrighted in the United States has either a paper manuscript or a digital record, and this box contains every digital record. We’ve lost a great deal less than you think, and restoring these to where they belong will be quite simple once we can. But one day, I will see these books returned to the public where they belong. Knowledge should not be destroyed simply because someone doesn’t like what they hear.”
I marveled at the lengths Bradley’s mother had gone to contain a priceless collection of books the government had wanted to see destroyed. “Do any politicians know what you’ve done?”
“There are a few of them, yes. You’ve even met with some of them recently.”
I frowned, went to my office, and found the address with the warehouse. “Mr. Hampton, you can check warehouse addresses as part of your security work without drawing attention, can’t you?”
“I can. It’s routine for me. I’m checking into rival warehouses all the time.”
I gave him the slip of paper. “Please see if you can find anything out about this address.”
He took it, got out his phone, and tapped at the screen. After a few moments, his eyes widened. “Oh.”
I frowned. “What is that reaction about?”
“My company actually monitors that warehouse. It was one of the first contracts I secured during my initial expansion, acquired when I bought out a different security firm. The contract expires on the date listed on this paper, which is why you’re on a deadline. The contract holder indicated they would be dropping the contract last year, far ahead of the contracted terms. We actually gave them a better rate for having the courtesy of notifying us more than a year in advance.”
“Do you know what it contains?”
“That’s a good question.” Mr. Hampton dialed a number, put the phone to his ear, and after a few moments, stated, “I need an overview of the contents of a warehouse. The contract will be expiring in October, and we may be responsible for helping the owners empty the building; it’s one of ours.” After another pause, he gave the contract number and address for the warehouse.
The minutes dragged on, and I clasped my hands in front of me so I wouldn’t fidget while waiting.
“Excellent, thank you. Please indicate to the owner of the contract that we are willing to handle everything in the building if they wish to do an abandonment; as they’ve been an excellent customer, we will waive the fees. Do not use the words removal, disposal, or destruction; the contract terms allow us to keep, reuse, and restore anything found in the warehouse upon abandonment, and I’d prefer if we did not remind them of that. Thank you. Call me when you find out either way.” He hung up, smiling. “Janette, we’re going on a road trip, where I will set you loose in every used bookstore I can find and you can pick one or two titles each for that. Whomever gave you that note adores you and loves libraries.”
“Yes, he does,” I confirmed. “What is in that warehouse?”
“Many, many boxes of books, and they’re owned by the United States.”
“There is no way that warehouse contains the rest of the purged books,” I blurted.
“Why else would a politician give you a scrap of paper with the address that happens to have the exact date the storage contract ends, Janette? You love books, and you have my son, who also loves books and didn’t become a librarian because he realized someone in the family has to be skilled at making money so the librarians can joyfully spend money on books.”
“And fast cars, because my librarian came with terrifyingly expensive taste in cars,” Bradley added. “But he’s telling the truth. I thought about becoming a librarian, but he reminded me that librarians have no need for contracts like yours, so I would have to settle with becoming a wealthy and handsome heir instead. But there’s no reason I can’t learn how to be a librarian now.”
I stared at him with wide eyes. “You want to be a librarian?”
“I would never get hired as a librarian because, unlike you, I can’t handle being around books responsibly.”
My boss eyed my fiancé with interest. “If you want to be a librarian, and you can learn some restraint, for some reason , we have a lot of money that needs to be managed. You can join Meridian in helping to manage the library’s finances and investments. It’s legitimate work we need done. We’ve been seeing excellent results with Mickey and Beatrice working together, so I’ll just use them as an example when suggesting we should hire you to handle our more complicated fiscal matters—and the politicians who come to us researching budgeting matters would love a chance to consult with you. It’s a good idea. It doesn’t pay well, but do you need us to pay you well?”
“Not at all, especially if I’m a part-timer. Do you do part-timers?” Bradley asked.
“I won’t have a problem getting you in as a part-timer, especially if you start pursuing a library science degree.”
“I want a library science degree,” I whined.
“So get one,” my boss replied. “Evening courses are a real thing, and I’m sure you can gain admittance to any school with online education that you want. But I warn you, library science degrees delve into the dark world of political sciences.”
Ew, gross. “Is that true, Mrs. Hampton?”
“It is. I’m sorry.”
“Bradley, you do the library science degree when you aren’t playing with the stock market and debuting as a handsome librarian. I will play with the cats.”
He laughed at me. “I think I can handle this. You can read your new collection of illegal books while I study and take my classes. I needed a hobby anyway. That leads us to the issue of the warehouse itself. What are we going to do if they don’t accept the offer to have you handle the books, Dad?”
“Honestly, we’ll steal everything, replace them with duds, and use illusions to convince the government they’re destroying the original books. That won’t be easy, but if they can murder politicians and trick everyone into believing it wasn’t being done with a bullet through the brain, we can trick them into believing they destroyed a priceless collection of books while we make off with the real deal. The trick will be going through the inventory, preparing the illusions, and being ready at a moment’s notice to evacuate the books. But unlike the original Library of Congress heist, we’ll be ready to preserve our history and legacy. And then we’re going to do the one thing you’re not going to like in the slightest, Tanya.”
My mother sighed. “Just hit me with it, Paul. What are you going to do that I’m not going to like?”
“We’re going to burn the entirety of this corrupt country to the ground. When we’re done, we’re going to leave the ashes of this sickened tyranny behind so that we have a chance to flourish in the future.”
While she stared at my fiancé’s father, she didn’t protest his commentary. After a few moments, she shrugged. “I’ll bring the matches and some gasoline as my contribution to the party.”
I squeaked, “Mom!”
“What? They’re the reason you were shot and kidnapped. Burning the entirety of their twisted empire to the ground is the least I can do. You mark my words, little girl. These people have fucked with the wrong mom. If I could feed their guts to crows before lighting them on fire, I would.”
As would I. “Have you had your coffee yet, Mom?”
She cast a rather sheepish look my way. “No. I was trying to quit, and I’m coming to the conclusion that’s just a really bad idea.”
“Bradley, I’ll make the coffee so I can prove to my loving mother that I have mastered at least one kitchen art.”
My mother’s eyes widened.
“She’s gotten quite good at coffee, Mrs. Miller. Please don’t worry. She’s actually better at making coffee than I am now. It’s part of our cooking rehabilitation program. Once we master coffee, we’re going to explore the world of tea. After tea, we’re going to try rice.”
“Well, that explains the rather impressive collection of menus,” Beatrice muttered, shaking her head. “But if you’re making coffee, bitch, I’ll have some. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”
“Coffee for everyone it is. While I’m gone, do brainstorm how we’re going to burn an entire government to the ground, because honestly, I have zero idea how we’re going to pull this off,” I confessed.
“It’s going to be easier than you think,” Bradley’s father promised. “We’re going to weaponize the truth until the people decide enough is enough. We’re going to take the government’s cruel ambitions and use it against them. And once we make it clear that the government is deliberately murdering members of the military to assassinate their own politicians, the fires we set will burn them from the inside until nothing but a charred husk remains.”
I frowned. “Do you think the military will help us?”
Mr. Hampton nodded. “Remember, Janette. Numerous military officials already went to bat for you to save your life after the shooting. Think about how swiftly they were able to get the perfect people here for you at the lowest cost. They hadn’t just tossed that operation together. They had anticipated it happening, so everyone was in the right place at the right time just awaiting orders. What we need to learn is who in the government had given the military the orders to march. Whoever they are, they knew you would be shot, they knew you’d be contaminated with Senator Maybelle’s blood, and they knew you’d need help only they could provide. And they were ready. I think the military will be our allies in this, if we can figure out who those specific allies are. Someone is backstage working to bring about the downfall of the government. But who?”
The why I could understand: too many Americans would suffer if the government’s plans came to fruition. “And the FBI?”
“It’s probable they’re involved as well. Our cell has been treated with white gloves, kindness, respect, and careful guidance. I’ve done some looking into it, and most cells do not receive the help we’re getting. I think our country is ripe for rebellion, and the only thing it’s missing is a figurehead.”
I read between the lines: he meant me. “I don’t like this game. We win or we die.”
Following a soft and low pained sound, Bradley’s father replied, “For the sake of every American, we need to win—and if the government does as it wants, death will be a mercy.”
I hated that he was right. “I want to start this fire with the truth of the murdered politicians and the deaths of the military personnel ordered to assassinate them. If we’re going to make them burn, we will use the consequences of their own actions as the kindling for the flames.”
My fiancé got up, came over to my side, and kissed my cheek. “And thanks to the courage of a few good men left in office, we have all the pieces we need to solve that puzzle,” he informed me. “But if you want to start the fire with the truth, then that’s where we’ll start. The memos the media are distributing are just the first sparks. Once that smolders, we’ll start telling the American people the truth of what their government has done—and how many of them will be sacrificial lambs to the slaughter. We just need to remind the people we built this country on rebellion, and we can—and will—rebuild it in the same exact fashion. Win or lose, our voices will be heard. For better or worse, we will see this through to the end. And if we play every card just right, we’ll have to get onto that second cruise ship, come back to the United States, where the real work will begin. It’ll be all right, you’ll see.”