Romeo's Tell (A disappearance mystery turned international thriller) Read online

  “No rest for the weary, hey Morg?”

  “No, not this week.”

  “Chad,” a sweet voice called from behind.

  Chad turned to see Jill Paulson walking briskly toward them.

  “Hi Jill. Long time,” he said with a grin. “Hey, I’d like you to meet my good friend Morgan. Morgan, this is Jill.”

  Morgan and Jill exchanged pleased-to-meet-yous.

  “Chad, I just wanted to thank you for what you did in there.”

  “No problem, really.”

  “What’d I miss?” asked Morgan.

  Chad shook his head lightly. “Nothin’. I’ll tell you about it later.” He turned to Jill. “You might want to keep your distance from the guy. He seems a little unstable.”

  Jill nodded, then looked directly into Chad’s eyes. “I’d like to do something for you as a thank you. Maybe make you dinner or something?”

  “That’s not necessary, Jill. It was really no big deal.”

  “But I really would like to do something for you.”

  Being the good friend he was, Morgan came up with a suggestion. “She could type up that paper for you.”

  Chad’s wheels started turning. “Hmm. Tempting. But I don’t know. With my chicken scratch? That would be asking a lot.”

  “I’d be more than happy to do it. Please, it would make me feel better.”

  After a brief pause, Chad shrugged. “Great. Let me know how to get my notes to you.”

  Morgan stretched out his arms, palms up. “Having brokered this deal, I really must now take my leave. The two of you can thank me later. Jill, it’s been very nice to meet you.”

  “It’s been a pleasure to meet you too, Morgan.” Jill’s smile about melted Morgan where he stood.

  “Thanks again for bringing the hat, Bro.”

  “No problem, Morg. Just be sure you bring the strong sound tomorrow.”

  “You know I will. You gonna swing by?”

  “Can’t. I have the Adams boys tomorrow.”

  “Next time then.” As he turned to walk away, Morgan glanced quickly toward Jill then shot Chad one of those wink-without-winking looks that said, “Nice going! And don’t screw this up, buddy.”

  Chad nodded. “Later, Morg.”

  Jill had been writing something on a small piece of paper and handed it to Chad as Morgan walked off. “I live in Kaye Hall, room 203. I’m also writing the phone number down for you.” She handed him the info.

  “So, when’s your paper due?” she asked.

  “A week from Monday.”

  Jill looked slightly shocked. “You mean like, a week and two days from now?”

  “Uh, yeah, that would be right.”

  “Oookay. You better get your notes to me in the next couple of days then. If I’m not home when you get there, just ask the front desk to leave it in my mailbox.”

  “Will do.”

  “So what’s the paper about and, dare I ask, how long is it going to be?”

  “It’s only gonna be about ten pages and I just know you’ll find it fascinating.” The tone of sarcasm in Chad’s voice when he said the word fascinating was unmistakable. “It’s for my cryptography course.”

  “Wonderful.” Now the sarcasm was in Jill’s voice.

  “Don’t worry. This is easy cryptography.”

  “That sounds like an oxymoron.”

  “Not at all. The title of the paper is Use of Steganographic Techniques during World War II.”

  “Sounds easier already,” Jill said with a roll of her eyes.

  “Well look, you really don’t have to do this.”

  “No, no, no. I’m just kidding. I’m sure I can handle it.”

  “I know you can. Steganography is just a fancy word for a simple concept—namely, sending hidden messages. Have you ever seen the hidden pictures things in Highlights magazine?”

  “Sure, I always loved those.”

  “Well, that’s a form of steganography. It’s a little different from cryptography. With cryptography, it’s obvious that a secret message is being sent because the visible message is a jumble of nonsense. With steganography, only the intended recipient of the message would even know a hidden message exists, because the visible message already makes perfect sense—like the big picture that has all the hidden pictures inside.”

  “Okay, fine,” said Jill. “You really find this stuff interesting?”

  “Well, it’s good for an understanding of the history of cryptography and encryption. And encryption is going to become more and more important as all of our computers are connected and used for more and more things. It’s coming, believe me.”

  “Oh, God. You’re a computer science major, aren’t you?”

  “Guilty. But I’m not a complete nerd, I promise.”

  “Prove it,” she said playfully.

  “Okay,” Chad took a moment to think and in short order, came up with an idea. “Can you go with me to Cass Park next Saturday morning?”

  “Yeah,” Jill said, sounding not quite sure.

  “Great. I’ll pick you up outside Kaye at 10:30 sharp. Wear your sneaks and bring your baseball glove.”

  “I don’t have a baseball glove—anymore.”

  “That’s okay. Righty or Lefty?”

  “When I last played, about a hundred years ago, I was a lefty.”

  “Great. Got you covered. Were you any good?”

  Jill smiled coyly. “You’re just gonna have to find out.”

  Chapter 4

  Jill was outside her dorm waiting for Chad at 10:25 Saturday morning. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to play baseball, but she was certain that she wanted to see Chad again. In fact, she could hardly wait through the week for Saturday to arrive. Chad was looking forward to seeing her again too.

  Jill had found Chad’s notes for his paper waiting in her mailbox on Tuesday morning. A sticky note on the first page said, “Still time to back out.” Directly underneath it was another sticky note saying, “But I hope you don’t.” And underneath that was a third sticky note saying, “See you Saturday at 10:30.” A wide rubber band held a single red rose atop the stack of about fifteen handwritten pages. She had typed the paper during the week and had it with her now as she waited.

  When she saw a faded-blue Volkswagen minibus pull up precisely at 10:30, she was a little surprised to see Chad behind the wheel. She had been thinking maybe Mustang or Camaro. But the minibus actually looked like more fun to her—like a throwback to the sixties.

  She opened the passenger side door to find a well broken-in left handed fielder’s glove on the passenger seat.

  “Hi Jill. Step aboard The Blue Wonder. If you dare.”

  “Hi Chad. I love it. Makes me feel like a flower child.”

  “A flower child, hey. Hmm, you sure you’re up for this little outing?”

  “Sure. It’s just baseball, right? I’ve got good-enough footwear, and this glove . . . ,” she said as she slipped the glove on her right hand, “fits like a glove.”

  “All right then. Let’s go see what you’ve got,” Chad said as he let out the clutch to put the Blue Wonder in motion.

  Cass Park, situated alongside Cayuga Inlet near the southern tip of Cayuga Lake, was about a fifteen minute drive from campus. Jill took the opportunity during the ride to ask Chad a few questions about his paper. She had it essentially done, but there was one point near the end she had concerns about.

  “I’ve got your paper all typed up, but I think the last page or two may need to be changed a little.”

  Chad shifted from second gear to third and the Blue Wonder moaned a bit. “Really? What exactly?”

  “Well, it’s where you do your little commentary on null ciphers. You know, the ones that use a certain letter from each word to build a hidden message?”

  “Do tell. I’m impressed that you’re so fluid with the terminology.”

  “I have a pretty good memory,” Jill said, as if apologizing for her above average intelligence was nothing new to her
. “Anyway, it’s when you say in the paper that null ciphers could have been improved by using a certain character, like a comma, to indicate that the rest of a sentence should be ignored.”

  “Yeah, it’s a good idea. What about it?”

  “Well, it sounds kind of arrogant. Shouldn’t you just stick to what was actually done in practice?”

  Chad stopped at a red light and took the opportunity to turn and face Jill directly. “I don’t know about all that. I guess I can’t really help it if it sounds arrogant. It’s not meant that way. It really is a good idea and I think it shows original thinking. Let’s leave it in, okay?”

  “Okay, well, here you go then,” she said, holding up a neatly sealed nine-by-twelve envelope.

  “You’re kidding. You’ve got it all done already! It’s not even midnight the night before it’s due. You’re amazing! Thank you. Would you throw it on the back seat for me, for now?”

  “Sure. I proofed it pretty carefully, so I don’t think you’ll find any mistakes.”

  The light went green. Chad eased the Blue Wonder into motion again and changed the subject. “You like Mexican food?”

  “Love it. And I like margaritas too.”

  “Great. I thought maybe I could treat you to lunch at Cola del Lago after we play ball,” Chad said as he turned onto NY-89 to cut across Inlet Island. “Kind of a thank you for typing up the paper.”

  “Sounds wonderful—better than playing ball sounds actually.”

  “Now, now, don’t prejudge the activities. You haven’t even met the Adams boys yet.”

  “Who?”

  “John and John Quincy Adams,” Chad said, taking a second to glance the glistening beauty of Cayuga Inlet, which was now to their right and widening as they drew nearer to the lake.

  “Weren’t they presidents?”

  “I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway. But I suppose their parents must be fans of the founding fathers.”

  Chad turned onto a wide gravel road that encircled the park’s four baseball fields and parked the Blue Wonder directly behind one of the backstops.

  No sooner had he turned off the engine, than he detected motion in the rearview mirror. “And here they are,” he said, as an old Ford station wagon made its way into the lot.

  Chapter 5

  Behind the wheel of the Ford wagon was a friendly-looking woman in her mid-thirties. She parked next to the Blue Wonder and her two ten-year-old twins—the Adams boys—immediately came running out toward Chad.

  John and John Quincy nearly knocked Chad over when they got to him. “Chad!” they yelled as he picked them up, one in each arm, and shook them around like Godzilla.

  “Are you guys ready to play some ball?” Chad asked, using a tone reminiscent of some impossible cross between a baseball coach and the Cookie Monster.

  “Yeah!” they shouted as he set them down and they ran to get their gloves and bats from their mom’s car.

  Jill joined Chad as he walked over to the car to say hello to the boys’ mom, Connie. He introduced Jill and the two women exchanged some friendly small talk.

  “We’ll only be a few hours, Connie. I’ll have the boys back home by 2:30 at the absolute latest.”

  “That would be great, Chad,” the boys’ mother said, grateful for the attention and guidance he provided her sons. “We are going to my sister’s for dinner and we need to leave by about four.”

  “No worries. We’ll see you between 2:00 and 2:30.”

  “Okay, have fun. You boys got everything you need?”

  “Yeah, Mom,” the boys said almost in unison.

  “Okay, give me a kiss, please.”

  John and John Quincy took turns leaning through the driver’s side window of the old wagon and giving their mother an affectionate peck on the cheek. “See ya, Mom,” they each hurriedly said.

  As Connie Adams drove out of the lot, Chad walked over to the Blue Wonder, pulled out a five-gallon bucket of baseballs, and began introducing Jill.

  “Guys, we have an additional glove today. This is Jill.”

  Jill offered her hand and took a guess. “It’s nice to meet you, John.”

  “Nice to meet you too, but I’m John Quincy. The little guy next to me is John.”

  “Well, it was a decent guess, right?” Jill said, while John slapped John Quincy on the arm for being a wise guy.

  “And of course it’s a pleasure to meet you too, just John,” she said, as she shook hands with John.

  The identical twins with vivid blue eyes were in fact exactly the same size, about average for their ten years, but with above average athletic skills. As Chad would often say, they played more like fourteen-year-olds than ten-year-olds.

  Chad started calling out positions. “Okay, Jill, left-center field. You know where that is?”

  Jill shot him a dubious look. “Duh, behind first base?” she said over her shoulder as she started loping off between second and third.

  As soon as Jill was out of earshot, the boys, starting with John Quincy, voiced their observations to Chad. “I like her,” John Quincy said.

  “Me too,” added John. “And she’s real pretty.”

  Chad brought his index finger to his mouth. “Shh!”

  This confused the boys. “What? Doesn’t she already know she’s pretty?” asked John.

  “Yeah, but I don’t want her to know yet that I know she’s pretty.”

  Now the boys were even more confused, but no matter. All they really wanted to do was play ball.

  “Okay, John Quincy, take short. John, you’re at bat.” They didn’t need a catcher. As long as Chad put the ball near the plate and between their ankles and shoulders, these boys would be hitting it. And hit it they did.

  John’s first shot was a grounder to his brother at shortstop. John Quincy handled it easily and fired it back to Chad.

  Next, a really hot grounder, up the middle this time. It was to Chad’s right side and he just missed getting his glove to it. Jill ran in, side-stepped to her left, and scooped up the ball. Wow, she moves well, Chad thought. In one fluid motion she came up with the ball and sent it all the way in to Chad, throwing a strike. He stood, stunned, for a moment looking quizzically at the ball in his glove after catching it, then tipped his ball cap to his left-center fielder.

  John’s next shot was long and in the air, but to right center. Chad instinctively went to the bucket for another ball, but upon seeing John’s reaction he turned to watch Jill, who had been on it from the crack of the bat. I wouldn’t be able to get to that, Chad thought. There’s no way.

  Jill kept moving fast to her left, her glove hand on the opposite side. A second before the ball sailed over her head, she started her jump. Chad couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t jump that high.

  As Jill’s feet hit the ground and she began her roll, her backhand grab barely stayed in the glove’s webbing—like an ice cream cone catch—but it did stay. Chad looked on in awe as she rolled to her feet and threw a one-bouncer to John Quincy, who had positioned himself to take a cut-off throw as Chad had taught him.

  If Chad wasn’t in love with Jill yet, he was on his way now.

  They all took turns batting, thirty pitches each. Naturally, it turned out that Jill could hit almost as well as she could field.

  Once they had all batted, Chad sent Jill and the boys to the outfield for some long-ball practice. The boys looked at each other with puzzled faces. They had never practiced with Chad this way before. But today, Chad had a special surprise for them.

  Chapter 6

  Chad started emptying the bucket fungo style, hitting long fly balls to his ragtag outfield. For each play, the fielder making the catch would simply throw the ball back in so it would roll up to the backstop. After about ten minutes, there were just three balls left in the bucket. Three very special balls.

  Chad picked up the first of the three yellow balls and sent it high and deep in the vicinity of John Quincy. All three outfielders were slightly puzzled upon seeing the bright yellow
color as the ball made its way through the sky to John Quincy’s glove.

  The first thing John Quincy did after making the catch was to check out the funky-looking ball. He stood silently staring at the ball for several seconds then started jumping up and down and cheering as he ran in from the field.

  John and Jill were both quite puzzled, but John in particular did not have long to wonder what was going on. He heard the crack of the bat and saw his yellow ball rising high in the air to his right. He knew he was going to have to really move to get to it. He made a fine play to pull in the flying yellow cowhide and had the same exact reaction his older-by-five-minutes brother did upon looking more carefully at the ball.

  Jill stood alone in the outfield now. By this time, John Quincy was already hugging Chad’s left side like some kind of beloved tree, and seconds later, John was doing the same on Chad’s right.

  “Is Jill coming too?” they kept asking, barely able to contain their excitement.

  “Well, I hope so. Let’s find out.”

  The boys freed Chad as he looked up to see Jill shrugging her shoulders and starting to trot in from the outfield. Chad pointed to center field Babe Ruth style, stopping Jill in her tracks. She started back peddling fiercely, but less than a half-dozen steps later, her yellow surprise was high in the air. Judging from its arc that it would land at least forty feet behind her, she picked her spot, turned her back to home, and ran to where she thought the ball was going to be.

  About ten feet before arriving at the spot she’d selected, she looked up and over her shoulder. The ball was there but coming fast. Maybe too fast—she had no time to turn. In desperation and at—no, past—the very edge of her skill level, she attempted to reel it in a la Willie Mays. When it landed in her glove, she couldn’t even believe it.

  The two boys went wild.

  Chad had to pause a minute to retrieve his jaw, which felt like it was only a few inches from the dirt. “I can’t believe it! She just did The Catch. Mays couldn’t have done it better himself.”

  Jill finally slowed down enough to take a look at the captured yellow ball.

  The Adams boys were both shouting in their loudest voices, “Please come with us. We never saw any girl who can play like you. We never even saw any boy who can play like you.”