BACKTRACKER by Milo Fowler (e book reader txt) 📕

"I want to help you, Harry." Lennox held his gaze."And I think you can help me, too."

"I don't know what you're talking about, mister."

"Gavin," Lennox gently corrected him. "Call me Gavin." He paused to manufacture a warm smile, but itwasn't noticed by the boy. "I need you to tell me more about that man withyou. Anything you remember, anything at all."

"But I told you—"

"He was a stranger. That's good, it's a start. You didn'tknow him."

"Never seen him before," he muttered.

"Yet he knew to be there at that exact moment...when yourfather was killed."

The boy shifted his weight, glancing at Lennox with a haunted lookto his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean those two guys who kidnapped you may have had an accomplice."Kids always liked intriguing words. He could see by the way the boy faced himnow that he held his undivided attention. "This man, thisstranger—what did he say to you?"

Harry frowned and scratched at the side of his face. "I don'treally remember."

"It was a difficult moment for you, I'm sure."

"Do you think they had something to do with whathappened to my dad?"

"It's possible." He nodded. "And that stranger whowas with you is the key. Would you recognize him, if you were to see himagain?"

The boy shrugged. "Maybe."

Good to know. He might stay alive alittle while longer if he remained useful."And there's nothing else you canremember?"

"I don't know." He frowned, staring down at the dancefloor again. "I think he took me to his home. I was on a couch, like I'dbeen sleeping there, when those creeps in white came in. They must have knockedme out or something, because the next thing I remember is waking up back thereon the floor." He jerked a thumb toward the hallway and the restroomsbeyond. "If one of them's upstairs, can't we just go get him? Can't youtell your boss or Link up the cops—"

"Easy, Harry." Lennox grasped the boy's shoulder andsqueezed it. "These are dangerous people we're talking about here.Murderers, kidnappers. Who knows what they're capable of? We can't endanger thelives of anyone here, let alone ourselves. We need to think this through."

The boy cursed under his breath. "We've gotta do something."

"We will." I've got him on my side now."We've just got to be smart about it."

"I don't know why this is happening. What's it all about,anyway?" He shook his head. "Why Dad? Why me?"

Lennox weighed his words. "I don't think it's really aboutyou, Harry." He paused, waiting for the boy's attention to swing back hisway. "I think it has to do with something your father made. An inventionthese men want to get their hands on. They won't let anyone stand in theirway."

"How do you know?"

Lennox felt his gut sink. Have I said too much? "Thatdrunk monk upstairs—he said something about a device... What did he callit?" He feigned the hunt for a word just beyond his grasp. Then he pretendedto remember, snapping his fingers in the air: "The BackTracker—that'sit. Does that sound familiar to you, Harry?"

"Back-tracker?" he mused aloud. "I don't thinkso."

"But your father is—he was an inventor? The monk was rightabout that much?"

The boy seemed lost in thought. He stared at the carpet, only oneof his dazed eyes visible between the locks of hair.

"No," his voice came at length, heavy and labored."He was just my dad." His shoulders trembled then, and hesniffed, choking back tears. "I don't know why they did it to him, I don'tknow why. They must have gotten him confused with somebody else." He wasgoing to cry, whether he liked it or not.

Lennox watched him with a cold disdain. He's quickly outlivinghis usefulness.

"Somebody else," the boy repeated. He looked up, eyesglistening. "There was someone elseout in the alley when they killed him. Somebody ina..." He trailed off, his gaze sweeping across the tuxedo before him."He was in a suit. Like yours."

"Do you think he works here at The Pearl?" I can'tlose him—not yet. He knew the face of his protector. Lennox loweredhis voice and glanced over his shoulder. "Was it one of the other waiters,you think?"

"I don't know. I didn't get a good look at him, but he waswearing a fancy suit, and he had an umbrella."

"Well, that narrows it down to just about every guy inhere." He half-smiled.

The boy didn't find it humorous. He took a step back. "Could'vebeen you, for all I know."

"Really, Harry?" Lennox pretended to be hurt."After all I've done? I'm just trying to help you out here."

"Then let me go."

"And do what? Get yourself kidnapped again?" Ironic.

"I can take care of myself."

The boy moved to squeeze past Lennox and head for the stairs atthe far end of the second tier. Lennox half-turned and blocked his path,holding up his hands in a gesture of accommodation. But he froze when he sawthe figure in white descending the stairs with a man beside him.

"That's him." Lennox turned his face away, keeping hisback to Yeng and the stranger. He held the boy in front of him so he would notbe seen.

"Who?" Harry strained to look past Lennox.

"You can't let him see you." Lennox tightened his gripon the boy's shoulders. "It's the drunk monk I told you about. And he'sgot someone with him." Your protector, perhaps? "Take a quicklook. Tell me if you recognize him."

The boy narrowed his gaze up at Lennox, then cautiously leaned tothe side to peer around him. There, heading down the steps to the main floor,was the monk in white. And beside him, tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a fedorapulled low and with his hand tucked inside the breast of his jacket—

"Yeah," Harry whispered. "That's him alright."

An electricity surged through Lennox, igniting every fiber in hisbeing, bringing into clarity his vision of the boy before him, the table behindthe boy, the white cloth on the table, the crosshatch pattern of its fine silkthreads.

"Stay out of sight, Harry." Breath quickened, Lennoxtapped the plug behind his left ear. First, to the mandroid at the entrance,"No one is to leave the premises until you hear from me."

"Yes, Mr. Lennox," came