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

THREE

“It’s so beautiful.”

Bradley’s new Indian restaurant succeeded where all other restaurants failed. With a horrified squeak over the spontaneous combustion of my eyeballs, I retreated to the kitchen for milk and yogurt to douse the flames to tolerable levels. Huffing and puffing, I regarded the takeout container with delighted yet wary respect. “What is that?”

“My sweet victory, apparently,” he replied with a grin. “They included mercy yogurt.”

With his proudest grin, he slid over the container.

I accepted the mercy and the defeat, took off the lid, and added several scoops of relief to a corner. “It has been a long time since that has happened.”

“You’re crying,” he informed me.

I bobbed my head, grabbed a clean napkin, and dabbed at the corners of my eyes. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Do you agree with the reviews, then? Should this Indian dish be classified as a biohazard?”

“It should be labeled as a spicy work of art, infused with true joy. I will be reviewing them and praising them for having done what no other restaurant in our area has accomplished yet.” Better prepared for the assault on my senses, I dove into the challenge of the dish, expecting to need several glasses of milk, all the yogurt in our home, and if my luck held, some sugar to help dull the glorious pain. “You have surpassed all expectations. And no, you are not trying this. You might die.”

“Are you in future wife mode or bodyguard mode with that statement?”

“A little of both. The bodyguard mode is remnant force of habit. The future wife mode is under development. I definitely need you alive to pay for this ridiculous condo. Do you know what a librarian can’t afford? This ridiculous condo.” I took a breath to steady myself and targeted a piece of potato. With a little luck, it would carry the full essence of spice.

While I liked meat, I accepted vegetables if they made it hurt better.

The potato met my expectations. I sighed and enjoyed the burn before taking a small sip of milk to help contain the fires of hell enough I could continue my meal.

“I’m telling our mothers that I have witnessed a miracle. You have chosen the humble potato over the large chunks of slow cooked meat presented for your enjoyment.”

“In this case, the potato should have the highest concentration of spice. My soul will burn after this meal.”

“As will your stomach lining. I don’t want to hear any complaining when your entire digestive system protests your current actions.”

“This is worth the price paid.” As the level of spice I inflicted upon myself could blind someone unfortunate enough to get it in their eyes, I gestured to the memory stick. “Why don’t you get that started so I have a good defense if the situation offends me enough I start crying again.”

The first time I’d become frustrated enough to cry, I’d alarmed everyone in my life except for my parents, who had dealt with me as a teenager. As an adult, I’d mastered the art of waiting to cry out my frustration until in the safety of home.

Home now had Bradley, and if I so much as sniffled, he showed up ready to vanquish any foe.

The first time I got a cold, I expected him to lose his mind.

He couldn’t defeat viruses.

While I incinerated my tongue and stomach, Bradley fetched his antique laptop, booted it up, waited for the poor thing to come to life, and once it was usable some ten minutes later, he plugged in the memory stick and opened the files.

A moment later, he whistled. “You have no idea what he gave you, do you?”

“Not a clue. There was no way I could ask,” I replied between bites of my supper and sips of milk. That I needed the mercy yogurt pleased me. “What’s on the stick?”

“Remember how Dr. Castor thought we should engage in some acts of theft?”

I nodded. “We have had zero luck getting into any sort of position to do that. I mean, except today. And that was accidental reception of illicit goods more than theft.”

“He has provided a roadmap for our thieving activities. He even helpfully labeled each folder as what to steal, when to steal it, and how to steal it.”

My eyes widened, and I gestured with my fork at the screen before taking another bite of spicy goodness. As I wasn’t going to talk with my mouth full, I gestured with my fork at the device again.

Bradley laughed at me. “It’s a complete list of all the upcoming bills for vote between now and the election. There’s also a section of bills expected to be ‘debated’ between the election and the inauguration. There are even references to the top candidates in here.” Bradley clicked around, and a moment later, his eyes narrowed. “Interesting. He’s included digital copies of his files along with notes on how they might differ from other politicians. The notes also include who our best targets for stealing copies would be.”

I took my time chewing, wishing the heat of the dish could eradicate the evils infesting the United States. “Why do we need to steal copies if he provided all his copies?”

After a few moments, Bradley said, “According to this note, the copies are different depending on role in the senate, house, or congress, and the ‘debates’ are based on cues within their specific documents. He even provided the guidelines on how files, like the ones we received, can be leaked. The cues are to be removed. There is even a list of the people files can be leaked to without punishment. His role is to make arguments to guide the finished document to his version, which is flagged as being one stage below final. His notes include if the bills are geared towards rights eradications, military pursuits, or enhancing the draft. He has also been instructed to improve social services to curtail public outcry over the other bills.”

“That’s interesting. He’s being asked to be one of the ‘good’ guys?”

“Correct. He has his marching orders from the top included.”

Damn. While we’d heard rumors of the government being rigged, seeing direct evidence of it would leave me with far more questions than answers. I hunted through my meal for another potato, stabbed it, and went to work nibbling it, expecting my lips to burn along with the rest of me. “The government is really rigged.”

“It appears so. But if we’re going to prove it, we need to get copies of as many of the cues and files as we can before leaking it out.” Bradley grimaced. “And that’s after discussing if we want to actually open Pandora’s box. Once we unveil that our government is a hoax, there won’t be any turning back.”

In the days following our meeting with Dr. Castor, we’d discussed the situation, determining if we did find evidence of the government’s utter control over the country, there would only be one route available to the people: civil war. It would become the government and military against the people, and those who were afraid of the government’s retaliation would side with them—or those who benefit from the government’s decisions.

He stared at the screen, and his eyes narrowed. “And with the latest bills, there are few people who will stand with the government: government workers or those forced into the system already, I suspect.”

I shook my head. “If there were that many dissenters, we’d already be in a state of civil war.”

“Would we, though? Think about it, Janette. If you’re an adept, you live or die based on which side you choose. Those in the lower brackets have been conditioned to believe it would take a thousand of them to beat one of us. That’s not even remotely true. I think that the shootings have done an excellent job of making it clear a bullet can kill anybody. Once those without magic are armed, the playing field is heavily equalized. The issue is if people realize that—and if they invest in learning how to fire a gun well. Then you have the issue of the adepts. Until the recent bills, being an adept protected you from most government treachery. Adepts have been conditioned to protect themselves, and that means siding with the government. And they believe that they can take out hundreds of those without strong magic with a sweep of their hand. Some can. But adepts forget about guns and how guns in the hands of those without magic can change everything. But change would be paid in a sea of blood. Nobody, except the corrupted government, wants that.”

With a sinking feeling, I realized the government would accomplish their goals either way. If a civil war happened, millions would die before the smoke cleared. Fatalities would occur on both sides, and there were far fewer adepts than anyone else.

If everyone rose up, the adepts would fall eventually.

“Is there no way out of this without war?” I asked in a whisper, hating that I needed to ask the question.

What we did moving forward would be influenced by the answer. One death was one death too many, and I feared how many had already perished from the government’s machinations.

“If enough adepts joined forces with everyone else and there was a President of the United States who wasn’t bought into the system, it might be possible, but it would require a complete voter takeover. The entire country would have to unite, and the government is doing a good job of keeping everyone divided. There’s just no candidate that isn’t controlled by the government that everyone can agree on. And we have no idea how many within the government are being told they must vote a certain way.” Bradley eyed my food, sighed, and retrieved his own.

He had several small sample containers, and I foresaw disaster.

“If you try it, you’ll die,” I warned him.

“Mine is not as spicy as yours. I asked for training wheels.”

As I wanted him to survive, I slid over the mercy yogurt. “You’re going to pay if you try it and need the yogurt and milk.”

“I will pay with a smile, starting in about an hour if the new medication doesn’t work.” Heaving a sigh, he pulled a pill bottle from his pocket, gave it a shake, and retrieved a tiny pill. “While you were taking a politician for all his wealth, I was meeting with a doctor. I was under threat of death from a different doctor if I failed to attend the appointment she made for me.”

Ah. Dr. Castor must have gotten fed up with Bradley’s ability to dodge the conversation regarding his poor relationship with dairy. “And how did they torture you while I was talking with a politician?”

“They almost made me deal with a scope as punishment for my failure to come in earlier, but Dr. Castor rescued me; she was satisfied regarding our familial belief in genetic lactose intolerance rather than a treatable condition. It turns out I have an infection in my small intestine. I got to experience an infection purge, and I’m not happy about it. I cried.”

As Bradley had shit pain tolerance, I believed he’d cried real tears of pain. He would have bitten something or someone long before screaming or yelping, but his eyes betrayed him when inflicted with excessive amounts of pain. Having dealt with more than a few infections, I understood their intense level of pain—and how much removing them could hurt.

I needed to send Dr. Castor another card thanking her for having erased most of my memories of my recovery.

“And the pill?”

“It is an enzyme booster to help me digest lactose while the probiotics I’ve been prescribed have a chance to work and restore my digestive system to good working order. I’m to eat as much dairy as I can tolerate for the next week, taking one of these pills before each session. I’ve been warned I might not have a good night. But there’s a twenty percent chance I won’t react to the lactose at all now that the infection has been purged.” He opened one of the samplers, which proved to be the same dish I ate except paler in color. With a gulp, he grabbed a fork, stabbed a potato, and took a bite.

“You brave, foolish man.”

A few seconds later, he yelped and bolted for the kitchen and the supply of milk we kept for his ill-fated experiments with spicy food.

I waited for him to come back, armed with his preferred jug and a glass, before laughing at him. “Finish your sample and wait for the heat to settle before you try the next sample. Please tell me you got something sensible.”

“I got butter chicken, and it’s one step above mild. I was given my own tub of mercy yogurt, Janette.”

I grabbed his large container, opened it, and dipped my fork into his sauce. A single taste warned me that the Indian restaurant would test his fortitude. However, I gave the restaurant credit on flavor.

They would make him cry, but he’d like it. “When I’m not up for spice, I’d eat this.”

He raised a brow at my announcement, took his dish back, and eyed the contents. “Isn’t one step above mild not very spicy?”

“You’re going to be crying, so I recommend we look over the files before we eat much more. What else is on the drive?”

Bradley ate every bite out of his sample cup, waiting two full minutes before turning to his milk for some relief. “There is a folder instructing us to watch everything within.”

“We can eat while we watch, just don’t ruin that laptop. It’s hard to get.”

“No kidding,” Bradley muttered. “My father’s employees will not be happy if they have to destroy all components capable of getting on the internet in yet another laptop.”

“Yet another?”

“I may have gone on a laptop rampage before my doctor’s appointment. You now have a laptop similar to this one, and we have two gaming laptops. They’re loaded with multiplayer games for us. I will conquer you, Janette. I will utterly destroy you and leave you begging for mercy at my feet.” Bradley wiped his hands clean before using the machine, clicking into the folder. “It seems we have a collection of ten videos to watch, and they’re numbered in order of which we should watch. They’re thirty minutes to an hour each.”

I eyed him, wondering why he’d gotten even more laptops. Since I’d moved into the condo with Bradley, three had fallen into my hands, one of which was dedicated to all things gaming. After some consideration, I decided I’d worry about the computers later, as Bradley was an adult capable of making poor fiscal decisions without me complaining about the money spent.

He surely had a reason, even if I couldn’t guess what that reason might be.

As such, I commented, “It seems Senator Thaddens has a lot to say—and he doesn’t feel he is allowed to say any of it.”

“Freedom of Speech died in the United States many a year ago.” With a sigh, he opened the first file and turned the laptop so we could both watch while we ate. “Let’s see what a politician wishes he could openly say, shall we?”

The video opened with a screen of text indicating that the camera and the original chip used to record all videos had been destroyed beyond any hope of recovery. I read between the lines: we would be wise to destroy the videos beyond any hope of recovery as well.

After dinner, we would. Bradley would take care of the laptop, and he would make use of a special hiding hole in the wall to store the memory chip. To access it, we would need to move several pieces of furniture, remove a section of baseboard, pull up a single plank, and pull out a tiny piece of drywall to hide the chip inside before moving everything back into place. At a glance, it was impossible to tell the baseboard connected to the wall using a strong magnet, the plank was likewise secured, and only the observant, after removing the baseboard, would notice the drywall wasn’t quite right.

Every scrap of evidence we had was stored within one of several tiny drives hidden in several crannies scattered around the condo.

No one else knew about the spaces, not even Bradley’s parents or his father’s security company.

Nobody could betray our secrets that way.

“Well, this is disconcerting,” I muttered.

“That’s an understatement.”

After a minute, the text faded away, and an image of Senator Thaddens stepping away from the camera and coming into focus came into view. He stood in a rainy forest, and thunder cracked overhead. A flash of light penetrated through the boughs above, and the man eyed the sky and heaved a sigh the camera somehow managed to pick up. “There’s so much I want to tell you, but I only have a limited amount of time to record this. It has become harder and harder to escape the view of the government’s eyes—or their ears. At the time of recording this, you and your family are safe from constant surveillance. They have limited bugs near your vehicles, but you have demonstrated that you are coming and going to your life without a care of the government. Keep doing that. It will protect you in the months to come. Luck has been with us in the strangest of ways, and I am in the best position to get a message to you. Will it help? That I don’t know. I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

Bradley reached over and paused the video, and he regarded me with a worried expression, his face paling. “He knows about the bugs in our garage.”

I nodded. “Which means the upper echelon of United States has been evaluating us—and finding us to be little pests not worth eradicating. Perhaps we’re the good kind of spiders in their garden in their eyes right now?”

To cover my growing sense of apprehension, I sought out another piece of potato, determined to fry my eyeballs, my taste buds, and quite possibly my few remaining brain cells in the process.

“I suspected this would be disturbing, but we haven’t even gotten through the first five minutes of this video, and I’m concerned over how much worse it will get.”

“Considering you just explored a bunch of folders confirming the government is rigged, there is reason to be concerned. Just hit the play button. Let’s see how deep this rabbit hole goes.”

Bradley did as asked, and like me, he relied on his meal to ground him—and offer sufficient culinary suffering to distract from the plethora of issues the video would inevitably create for us.

Senator Thaddens gestured to the forest he stood within. “This is near Lake Como in Italy. Italy bars excessive government personnel during visits, so the United States was only permitted to send two agents with me. This is a rest day, and I wished to go on a hike. The Italians kindly invited my security detail to participate in a training exercise, promising they would attend to my security. Should things not go as we prefer, reach out to Italy. They are your ally—and mine. They also have copies of everything I am giving to you, as they assisted with the creation of the thumb drive I hid away for you to find. This ploy could not be completed on American soil, that much I can tell you.”

I believed it, and I wondered how the United States had fallen so far that Italy had gone out of its way to assist a beleaguered senator.

But then again, Italy understood vicious politics better than most, being the heart of what had once been the Roman Empire. In a way, I was grateful I had fallen in love with the codices depicting Emperor Hadrian’s architectural exploits. It gave me a good reason to delve into the rise and fall of empires—and how we might navigate the treacherous waters we waded through.

“I should have an hour and a half every day to record messages for you on this trip, assuming all goes well and my Italian friends are able to occupy my babysitters. As it is protocol for my government tech to be kept at the embassy when I am out, they are confident I can’t do something like record a video while on a hike. We are not permitted to have personal tech at all. We’re searched before we board the plane, and we are barred from entering any stores without being heavily monitored. If I want to make any purchases, I have to submit a list before the trip and stick to my list. Without the help of the Italians, they would be correct. But the United States have overstepped enough times that other countries are reaching out when the government is blinded to their activities. Until twenty minutes ago, I had no idea I would have an opportunity at all. I was ready, however. I have been hoping for such a chance, and I will not let it slip away.” Senator Thaddens stared at something behind the camera, sighed, and nodded.

I suspected there were a few people off screen, people who would make or break the senator’s attempt to bring change to our country.

Bradley paused the video. “That’s even worse than I thought. I assumed they would have some personal freedom while abroad. The Italians must have been toying with the government for them to trust them not to give Senator Thaddens an opportunity.”

“The United States is currently a human rights violation,” I reminded him. “And while Italy has a bitter history in some regards, right now, they’re viewed as a neutrality. Who better to trick our government than them?”

He nodded. “And we can’t afford to tell anyone about what we’ve learned, not even in the cell. If anyone peeps, we lose a lot.”

Senator Thaddens would only be the first to die if either of us made even a single mistake. “I agree. Do you think he’s going to tell us why he’s taking the risks he is?”

“My bet is cancer or another form of disease. If he’s already dying, he doesn’t have much to lose, does he?” Bradley sighed. “We’ve seen that before. He would have just been diagnosed with low chances of recovery.”

The fact that the terminally ill sacrificed themselves for even a chance of bringing change haunted my sleep. How many would need to die before everyone had a chance at a fair and happy life?

How far would we have to go to finish what they started?

Bradley clicked on the play button.

“As I am sure you have already guessed, little in the government is safe. Librarians have been ignored because of the services provided, and President Castillo is convinced that you will be kept content as long as the government takes steps to fund and continue developing and preserving libraries. The availability of historic knowledge is a problem, but it is a problem he is willing to ignore. He doesn’t believe it is likely that a bunch of librarians can teach an entire population about civil uprising. Right now, nobody believes an uprising is possible. The people have been conditioned to believe in our two parties, and as long as we continue putting on a show, the people will continue to believe in our system. President Castillo will back off about the drafting bill a little—and the next elected president will continue his legacy. Westonhaus will be the winner by a clear margin unless there is a surprise upset. There’s only one opportunity for a surprise upset. That’s you, Janette.”

I leveled a glare at my future husband. “This is all your fault, Bradley Hampton!”

He paused the video and engaged me in a staring contest. “It’s my mother’s fault, but if I have to choose between Westonhaus and you being the President of the United States, I’m voting for you.”

I scowled.

He smiled at me. “I figured that was his game play the instant I saw the files. Why else arm you with every piece of political documentation they have? If you are questioned by the media on politics, and you read everything in here, you’ll know . You have an uncanny ability to recall what you’ve read, so if we throw all the current public bills we can and project the bills being worked on and pick the side that best benefits Americans, you can run an actual campaign without doing anything. The other politicians will do the work for you. President Castillo has essentially endorsed you through the number of times he has praised you as a heroine and a patriot.”

The thought of somehow becoming President of the United States horrified me. “I am going to yell at your mother about this.”

“I’m sure she can handle it. But let’s see what else Senator Thaddens has to say.”

Senator Thaddens smiled for the camera. “I haven’t met you at this point, but it wouldn’t surprise me if you’re cursing me right now. You? An exsanguinator? Become the President of the United States?”

I admired his use of sarcasm. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

Bradley snickered over my decision to address a pre-recorded video.

“But that’s where we are. We are under the thumb of a government so corrupt that our only hope of progress is in the hands of the people—and there are few paths that might overthrow the government we have without excessive war and bloodshed. And I fear war and bloodshed will be necessary to a certain degree. Those who have the power never wish to give it up. Our only hope is a candidate that most Americans can agree with. You have proven yourself in many ways. You are a librarian, someone everyone feels they can trust. You embody everything we have been taught Americans should be. Pause this video and take some time to think about it, and when you return, I will teach you as much as I can about how you can steal a rigged election, one designed to give the killing blow to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”