Sunday September 3, 1989
New York State Route 30- Northbound
Near Northville, New York
2:17 PM Local Time
Wendy Briese swallowed hard as she looked out the window of her father’s Mercedez-Benz W126, looking out over a crystal blue mountain lake that ran along the right side of the highway. It was a beautiful sight, one she had never seen before in all of her eight years. It was rare that her parents ever took her out of New York City, and when they did, it was never this far north.
She was glad for the scenery, too. It was the only thing positive she could find about being sent all the way up to the middle of nowhere. They had gone fifteen minutes without seeing a single building. How in the heck was she supposed to get anything in this desolate of a place?
“Why can’t I go to school in New York?” she whined, not for the first time today. Indeed, the question had relentlessly peppered her parent’s ears for the better part of the last month. But still, she hadn’t been satisfied with the answer.
Nevertheless, it came back the way it always had. “Blakely’s Academy is one of the finest schools in all of the Northeast,” her mother intoned. “And it has an outstanding performing arts program. Your fa... WE believe it’s best for you so that you can effectively prepare for your coming career.”
Right, to become greatest actress of all time, she fumed to herself. After all, considering her parents, it was a foregone conclusion that she was destined to be among the greats. But if that was the case, then why was she being forced to go to a school to LEARN it? Shouldn’t it just come naturally?
She knew it was fruitless to continue the argument, though, and she paused, glancing out at the lake again, as the car began to slow down, finally turning right (towards the lake!), through an ornate Victorian gate onto the Blakely campus.
To her surprise, the academy looked less like the monstrous prison of a schoolhouse she had thought, and more like a park. The lawn was impeccably manicured down to the slightest blade of grass, the flower beds were all bright, blooming, and weed free. Even the trees were somehow made to seem perfect, the leaves dark green in anticipation for the coming autumn.
It wasn’t completely reassuring, but it did calm Wendy’s nerves a bit. Even more settling were the actual buildings of the school, cozy-looking brick structures that more resembled upscale Victorian apartments than buildings for housing classrooms and dormitories. The car slowed to a crawl, in line behind a score of other cars, all dropping their children off. Wendy wasn’t surprised to see that every car in the line was just as nice- and in some cases even nicer, than her own parent’s Mercedes.
She waited quietly, watching as the line slowly crawled forward, her father making observations on how much more efficient the process would be if he was in charge. Wendy wanted to try one more time, beg them to turn around, and not leave her here in the middle of nowhere, but she knew that it would be fruitless. The previous thirty attempt had been, after all, and even at eight, Wendy had developed at least a moderate level of pattern recognition.
Finally, the car pulled level with an usher, who quickly conferred with Augustus, checked a list, and directed them towards one of the dormitories. After a couple more minutes of waiting in line, they were in front, and Gus shut the car off, getting out, and folding his seat forward to let his daughter out.
Wendy looked up at the building, and grimaced. The sun had gone behind a clown, giving the structure a more shaded and forbidding look, although she could see other students- ranging from her age to teenagers- walking into the building without any hesitation. She stepped to the curb, nearly tripping over it with her gaze still fixed upon the large Victorian brick building.
She heard a thud behind her, then another, the sound of her luggage being dropped on the curb, and a whistle from her father. A staff member from the school, a man smartly dressed in a maroon blazer, ran over.
“Briese,” Gus quickly told him, and the man quickly checked a list, and nodded.
“Room 217, sir,” the staff member replied, picking up the bags. “I’ll get these up there straightaway. You’re welcome to go up there and have a look.”
“We’ll say our goodbyes here,” Gus replied, ignoring, as he always did, any form of gratuity for the steward.
Wendy’s heart sank. She had been dreading this moment, the moment when her parent’s were to get back in the car and leave her behind. She had hoped it wouldn’t happen so quickly- amost immediately.
The steward walked away, not quite hiding the scowl on his face, and carried her bags to a large luggage cart. Wendy turned around, and saw her mother kneeling in front of her. Without even thinking, she threw herself forward, not even bothering trying to fight the tears trying to leak from her eyes.
“Don’t go,” she whispered.
“I can’t stay, love,” Gayle replied, giving her a smile. “But you’ll be fine here. You’ll learn a lot, and make friends, and blossom into a young lady.”
“But I don’t want to wait til Thanksgiving to go back home!” Wendy said, her voice thick from the tears.
“I know, but you’ll get used to Blakely. It’s such a lovely campus. And we’ll see you in just a couple weeks, when we come up for Parent’s weekend. You’ll have so much fun, you’ll forget to miss us before long!”
“No I won’t.” Wendy insisted.
Gayle smiled, and reached around her neck, unfastening the chain on her necklace. She cupped it on her hand, looking at it, and placed it into Wendy’s. “Here. My mother gave this rosary to me for my First Communion, and I wanted to pass it to you... but your father had other ideas about your gift. But now I want you to have it, and whenever you feel lonely, or scared, or miss me, just look at it, and remember that no matter what, I’m thinking of you, and loving you.”
Wendy unclasped her hand, and looked down at the small golden cross hanging from a matching chain. It was beautiful, and one of the prettiest pieces of jewelery her mother wore.
“Okay...” she replied uncertainly, as her mother gave her one last hug, a kiss on the forehead, then stood up.
Next was her father, who knelt down, his usual stern gaze fixed upon her.
“You need to be strong now, Wendy. No time for being a snivelling, crying baby. You’re a young lady now, and you need to act like it.”
Wendy nodded, and wiped her eyes, and Gus smiled faintly. “That’s my girl. Now, I want you to work hard, and remember who you are. You’re a Briese. You’re my daughter. You know what you were born with, and you know what your destiny is. Remember that, and always make sure you’re working towards it.”
Wendy nodded, but Gus continued. “Remember, no one is your better. NO ONE. And be very careful who you stoop to even consider an equal. You’re special, Wendy. Make sure everyone knows that.”
Wendy nodded, her scarlet hair bobbing about her face, and Gus leaned forward, stiffly embracing his daughter. He released, and whispered to her. “Make me proud.”, then stood up, turning to his wife, and announcing, “Let’s go.”
Gayle looked reluctant, but she wasn’t arguing, as she gave Wendy a final wave, and a kiss, then turned back to the car, opening it, and climbing inside. Wendy watched them start the car, and saw her mother wipe her eyes before the car pulled away, turning around and heading back towards the academy’s entrance.
Leaving her alone, all by herself.
Wendy sighed, then turned towards the building, looking up at it. The sun had peeked out again, making the dormitory seem much more inviting. Thank God. It’s not like she had anywhere else to go.
“Two seventeen,” she recalled, remembering the steward who had took her bags. The luggage cart was gone, so those same bags were likely waiting for her in the room. She had a sudden urge to see them. It was the only connection to home she had now.. save for the Rosary still clasped in her hand.
Wendy slowly walked inside the building, and up the stairs, too mopey to notice the beautiful ornate building that she was going to be living in. The main atrium was huge, with a grand staircase running up all six stories to the top, the handrails ornately carved mahogany. The floor was immaculate and glossy wood, save for a large Persian Rug located at the landings of each flight of stairs.
Wendy ignored all this, just turned at the top of the first flight of stairs, and headed towards her room, muttering “two seventeen” under her breath over and over to help her memory. All the dormitory rooms were propped open to welcome in the incoming students. She paused as she found her room number, then took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and burst into the open door.
It took her several seconds before she dared open them. To her relief, her bags were there, sitting on one of the beds, a large dresser and closet eagerly awaiting for her clothing to be deposited...
Wait... ONE of the beds?
She glanced at the other bed, which had a suitcase on there as well, and scoffed. “I have to share a room?!” Wendy exclaimed in dismay. What the hell kind of place had her parents sent her to?
“Oh, hey!” Wendy jumped at the voice, and turned to see another girl bounding into the room. She was Wendy’s age, but with jet-black hair bobbing faintly around a heart shaed face. Wendy arched her eyebrow- the girl’s dress was definitely not new, and had been faded through much wear. Even if it had been new, it was been something HER parents wouldn’t have let her be caught dead in.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m Gina!” the girl replied, grinning widely. “You must be Wendy! I was hoping you’d show up soon!”
Wendy was a bit nonplussed by the enthusiastic introduction. Her mind was already a jumble of thoughts and worries, and this new development only seemed to make things more chaotic for her mind. She grasped for something, anything to say... and the first thing that came to her mind popped out.
“Are you even allowed to be here?”
Gina’s grin faded, and she blinnked, looking at Wendy in confusion. “What?”
Wendy shrugged. “I didn’t know the children of the staff were allowed to just wander around, barging into rooms like that. “
“What?!” Gina’s jaw dropped, her confusion deepening. “My parents don’t work here. What makes you think that they do?”
Wendy didn’t say anything, but the way her eyes washed over Gina’s dress again made her line of thought all too apparent.
Gina’s face began to flush, and she smoothed out her dress, suddenly self-conscious. “This was my sister’s dress.” She said, looking down. “We don’t have that much.”
“You’re POOR?” Wendy was incredulous. “Then what are you doing here?”
“I got a scholarship.” Gina replied, somewhat defiantly. “What’s it to you?”
“Daddy said one of the reasons he was sending me here was because this ‘was a prestigous place that kept the rifraff out’. He won’t be happy to hear this.” Neither was she for that matter. The legitimate reasons for being here in the middle of nowhere were becoming fewer and fewer.
“I am NOT rifraff!” Gina snarled angrily, her hands balled into fists. “I’m a student just like you, whether you like it or not!”
Wendy took a step back from the viciousness of Gina’s statement. “You’re not like me.” She replied defiantly. “You could never be like me.”
“Well, thank God for that!” Gina retorted. “I’d rather be poor than be a snooty-nosed, stuck-up, zit-faced little BITCH like you!”
Wendy gasped, holding up her hand to her face, shocked that anyone would talk to her like that. If her father had heard what this horrible girl had called her... “Th...they’re freckles,” she stammered lamely.
“Who said that?” Came a stern voice from the door. Wendy and Gina both jumped, and turned to see a stern face woman in her late-fifties standing in the doorway. She was glaring at the two girls like a hawk having caught two mice in the open field. When neither replied, she took a deep breath and began again. “Which one of you said that vulgar word?”
Wendy’s arm immediately went horizontal, her index finger pointed straight at Gina’s face, which had gone ghost white. “She did. She called me the b-word!”
“I...” Gina’s voice was already warbly, and Wendy could see she was on the verge of tears. She bit her lip to keep from smirking.
“Come with me, young lady... or at least that’s what you’re SUPPOSED to be.” The woman beckoned, and Gina, her knees almost buckling, walked towards her. She stepped back, so Gina could leave the room, glaring at her all the while. “Hurry up and stop dragging your feet!”
And just like that Gina the poor girl was out the door. Wendy fought herself for another minute before she let loose the laughter that had been building up in her. That was too poetic. Maybe that would get her expelled. It SHOULD get her expelled.
At the very least, Wendy thought as she turned to her luggage and began unpacking, it taught the little brat not to mess with her betters.
===============================
Saturday March 3, 2012
Pritzker Park Condominiums, Unit 1417- Living Room
Chicago, Illinois
3:17 PM Local Time
It never got any easier for Gus.
It had been over thirty years since he had met Derrick Delaney, and the man was still just as intimidating as he had been the day he and Gus had met at a Republican meeting in Belfast. In fact, even now, Gus was MORE cowed by the man than he had been before. After all, he didn’t know too many people who were able to execute an escape from a maximum security American prison, and leave absolutely no suspicion about the whereabouts of the escapees. But Derrick had managed to pull it off flawlessly.
It had been over a month since that fateful day, and Gus had been surprised at how quiet things had gotten in the aftermath. Obviously, it was part of Delaney’s plan, and a wise one- it was best to let the heat over the escape cool off before going about normal business again. Gus had spent two weeks sequestered in the safe house. It hadn’t been an awful time, albeit incredibly boring. He had been watched over by two of Derrick’s associates, who had gotten him whatever he wanted, so long as it was within reason. Food, magazines, girls, whatever Gus had wanted, they had provided.
After that, they had finally let him go outside, a little more and more, as the memories of the escape and manhunt faded from the public’s mind. According to Delaney, the idiots had thought he had returned to Ireland, and had extradition forces looking for him everywhere from Belfast to Dublin.
He had finally been given new false documents, proclaiming him Allistair O’Connelly, and a condominium in nearby Grant Park, along with a decent amount of money. That had made Gus fume- he hated taking a handout, but considering that HIS money had all been transferred to his bitch of a daughter upon court order, he had little choice.
Still, other than the fact that Delaney pretty much owned everything he had- including his freedom and life, Gus was hardly miserable. At least he was no longer in that hell of a penitentiary back in Indiana.
But as usual, a summons from Derrick was answered with both promptness, and dread.
And so he was here, sitting on the couch, waiting for his host, who seemed more than happy to keep him waiting.
Finally, the elderly Irishman walked in, silently sitting down. It had been a couple of weeks since he had seen Delaney in person, but Derrick was the type to make sure he wasn’t forgotten, with his hired ‘associates’ coming by twice a day to check on Gus and make sure he wasn’t in- or causing- trouble.
Finally, Derrick reached over to the end table next to him, and pulled out a bottle of Glenfiddich. Gus’ mouth watered at the sight of his favorite Scotch, and he smiled in thanks as Delaney procured two glasses, and offered him one.
“To freedom,” Derrick said in a toast, raising his own glass.
“Freedom,” Gus replied, tilting his head back and downing the liquor.
“Well, which freedom, Gus?” Derrick suddenly asked sharply. “Yours... or Ireland’s?”
“Both,” came the reply.
“I’m glad you think so,” Derrick replied. “Because, in my mind, the time has come once again to liberate our people.”
Gus was stunned to hear this, and he nearly choked on the remainder of his Glenfiddich, before managing to clear his throat and set the glass down. “Are you sure about this? The Troubles are over, they have been since...”
“I know what’s happened in Ireland far more than you have, dear Gus,” Derrick snapped in reply. “I know what the scenario is. Everyone decided they’re going to do it politically. The nice way. Because, you know, arguing about it under the fucking nose of the Queen is going to accomplish it. No. The Crown is least expecting it now. And with all their security diverted inward because of the Olympics, the time to humiliate them and liberate us is now.”
It all seemed completely insane to Gus, but he remained silent, considering that he could see the fervent gleam in Derrick’s eye, and the fact that there were several large men around him, each one with an M16 rifle slung over their shoulder. It suddenly struck him that Delaney had done well for himself to pick Chicago as a place to stay, and not just due to the proximity to his ‘rescuee’. Chicago was likely the easiest city in America to get away with murder. This was not a time to disagree.
“So what’s the plan?” Gus asked, not really wanting to know the answer.
In response, Derrick smirked. “Project Wildeshaw.”
It was a name Gus hadn’t heard in years, and it was the last thing he had been expecting to hear. It was also the worst two possible words he could have ever heard at that point. He nearly choked again, but managed to cough out. “Project Wildeshaw.”
“Yes. I trust you kept it safe all these years, Gus.”
Gus’ heart was pounding in his ears, his breathing labored, and it took every control he could of his bladder to not let it release. He had dreaded this moment for fifteen years, praying it would never come. For the last decade, he had been convinced it never would.
“So... where is it?”
He didn’t know he could sweat as much as he was doing so right now. Vomit rose in his throat, and he swallowed hard, cringing at the acidic burn. Finally, he took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”
There was a long silence, and Gus saw the manic glint in Derrick’s eye. The same glint he had seen that day in the prison, when Derrick had savagely beaten him and kicked him out of Ireland. “You... don’t know?” The voice was calm. Cool. Deadly.
Gus nodded, and choked down his lunch and liquor again. “When we moved to Indiana, I buried it in the backyard. I thought it would be safe there.”
“And your old house is gone,” Derrick sighed. “Your daughter burned it down eight years ago, then sold the lot.”
“It wasn’t there, even then.” Gus said. He was dead anyways. He might as well die being an honest man. “I don’t know who, but someone knew about it. They came one day, and... dug it up.” He thought about mentioning that something else was buried in its place, something he was sure wasn’t disturbed by the reconstruction of the lot. But he doubted Delaney would find it relevant, and thus a waste of time.
“And you never bothered to tell me this?” Derrick fumed.
“I... thought you had abandoned the plan,” Gus replied. “It had been fifteen years since you sent me it.”
“And now it’s been thirty. And I thought you were loyal, and smart enough to know that I was willing to wait whatever it took to make sure the impact was right. That’s your problem Gus. You have no long-term vision. You had a girl shot because she beat your fiancee out for a role, and never thought about what would happen if it DID get traced back to you. You had your wife killed, and never thought it would come back to you. And now you never thought THIS would come back to you. And yet... it all did. Every last fucking bit of it.”
Delaney leaned forward, running his index fingers up each side of his nose, and massaging it as if he had a migraine. Finally he sighed. “I trusted you with this Gus. For thirty years, I trusted you. I CAME here, and busted you out of prison, because I thought if anything, you could keep a goddamned ENVELOPE safe. Everything I worked for the past four months, you’ve just pissed away. This was a goddamned waste of time. All of it, a waste of time.”
Delaney looked one more time at Gus, and Gus almost thought he saw a trace of sympathy in the man’s eyes. Then Delaney stood up, turned around, and began to walk away. “There’s a flight to Ireland leaving in three hours. I intend to be on it. O’Brien, Mahoney... Mr. Briese here has outlived his usefullness. Please remedy that.”
“NO!” Gus exploded, leaning foward, only to be grabbed by two of the guards. “Derrick, please! Don’t do this!”
Derrick walked away, muttering something about ‘too many chances.’ The two men began to restrain him, pulling him away.
“Derrick! Please.. don’t! For old time sake! Please! IVANA! IVANA GANIYEVA HAS PROJECT WILDESHAW!!”
The words burst out of Gus’ mouth before he could even consider them. He didn’t know how his brain even came to that conclusion, but somehow, someway, he knew he was right.
Delaney stopped, and turned around, looking back at Gus, and everything went quiet. Derrick took a couple of steps forward. “Your Ukranian whore? But you told me you had no idea.”
“It’s a hunch, Derrick. But I know I’m right. She has to have them. Just... please. Give me a week. I’ll have her, and them here. Please! I can still be of value.”
There was a long pause. Derrick tapped his chin, scowling at Gus, trying to determine if he was bluffing, or had really and truly come up with a last-minute revelation.
“You’re not shitting me, are you? Because right now, you’re going to die painlessly with bullet in your temple. If you’re fucking with me to save your own miserable hide... I will make this as excrutiating for you as I can.”
“If she’s not here in a week, do with me whatever.” Gus panted, clinging to the last thread he had. “But she’ll be here. I know she’s in London. I can get ahold of her. Just please, let me try!”
Derrick bit his lower lip as he continued to stare at Gus. Gus stared back, pleading with every muscle in his brain that he would be given one last chance. Finally, Derrick nodded.
“One week. And if I do not have that envelope in my hand by then, you will BEG me for death by the time I’m through with you. Is that understood?”
Gus nodded, relief coursing over him.
“Very well. O’Brien, Mahoney. Change of plans. Take Mr. Briese back to his flat in Grant Park, and ensure that the only outside contact he makes is with this Ivana. Keep in contact with me. I want that envolpe in my hands by next Saturday, or you know what to do.”
The two men holding him grunted, and Delaney turned away, walking back towards his office. He paused after a few paces though. Not even bothering to turn around, he spoke. “Oh, and Mahoney? Please let Mr. Briese know that despite sparing his life for the time being, I am most displeased with him.”
Gus didn’t even have time to register the comment before he felt his arm being forced behind him, and suddenly a loud CRACK echoed throughout the room. Then Gus collapsed to the ground, his right arm hanging dead at his side as his anguished screams ripped his throat raw.
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