Page 82 of Taken

18

Mason

“Fucking done.”

I pressed the enter key on my laptop with a satisfied smile.

After spending the entire morning collating all the evidence Jolie and I had acquired over the last few weeks, I’d called the local FBI office and stated my case. I was put on hold for over an hour, but finally someone spoke to me.

I could tell the agent didn’t take me seriously at first when I told him there was a crazy fringe cult keeping women trapped underground under the false belief that the apocalypse had occurred back in 1999, but when I kept insisting I had proof, he began to listen. Then he transferred me to his boss.

She was just as skeptical at first, but I told her I would send over everything I’d gathered over the weeks. Recordings, photos, videos, pages upon pages of notes and observations I’d made. Finally, after listening to a few snippets of Jolie’s testimonial video over the phone, she agreed to review the rest of my evidence. She also said she would send a team out to the ranch to investigate. Right away. No warnings given.

That was all I needed to hear. I emailed her everything I had, and then I posted Jolie’s testimonial video to YouTube just in case. After contacting a few popular blogs with a link to the video, I was finally finished.

Within the next five or six hours, the Path of the Covenant cult would be wrecked. The men would be arrested and put away forever (or so I hoped) and the innocents would be rescued. It would take a long time for any of them to adjust to the real world, but at least they would finally be given the chance to do so; something they’d never had before.

I looked at my watch. It was just after one-thirty. That gave me a bit of time to get some shopping done before the raid went down.

I left my motel room in Amiens and drove down to the main street that ran through the town. It was a little place compared to what I was used to, but it was still big enough to have a sizable women’s clothing boutique. I stopped there and spent the next couple of hours browsing and grabbing every single thing that looked like it might fit Jolie.

Usually I’d hire an assistant or stylist to do this sort of shit, but there wasn’t exactly anyone on hand in Amiens, and besides, I didn’t mind doing it. It was for Jolie. She would need proper clothes, underwear and shoes after leaving New Eden, and I wanted to have it all ready and waiting for her. One less thing for her to worry about.

Once I’d loaded up my car trunk with bags and boxes, I stopped at the small electronics store across the street from the boutique. I figured a cell phone and laptop might be good to have on hand as well, so Jolie could learn to use them.

After that was sorted, I went and grabbed a Coke from another store nearby. I returned to my car and settled into the front seat with the drink.

“Mason!”

I looked to my right. A familiar man was walking down the street toward my car, carrying a medium-sized giftwrapped box. As he drew closer, I saw that it was Tom Anderson from New Eden.

He set the box on the ground and leaned down to the front passenger window. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said, panting slightly. “I knew you were doing something in town, but I had no idea where.”

“Everything okay?” I asked, stiffening.

“Yeah, I was just supposed to give you this.” Tom gestured to the box. “I was told to give it to you away from the ranch so the women don’t see. You know how it is. Gotta hide everything from them.” He grinned.

Obviously, the FBI hadn’t shown up at New Eden yet. Any minute now…

I arched an eyebrow. “What is it?” I asked.

“A gift from Prophet Jacob. He said he wanted you to have it before you marry his daughter.”

“How kind of him,” I said, pasting on a big fake smile.

I opened the door, and Tom lifted the box onto the passenger seat. “Careful, it’s fragile. Oh, and there’s a card, too,” he said, removing an envelope from his jacket pocket. He set it on top of the box. “Anyway, I’ll see you back at the ranch for dinner?”

“Yup. See you soon,” I lied.

He walked away. I tore open the envelope and pulled out the card. The words ‘To my future son-in-law’ were written on the front in gold calligraphic font. What a fucking joke. With a snort, I opened the card.

Instead of the long, fawning message I expected, there were only two words in it.

WE KNOW.

It was written in huge red capital letters.

On the other side was a small round piece of plastic. It looked like it was one of those talking greeting cards which would record a message from the sender for the receiver to listen to when they opened it. Just as I realized that, a voice began to emanate from the little audio chip.

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