Chapter 7: The Other Whitaker
“Jonathan.””
My mother said the name like it had weight.
Like even whispering it could bring something terrible into the room.
Ryan stared at her.
“Who is Jonathan?””
Mom looked at my father.
George Whitaker didn't move.
“Dad?””
Nothing.
Ryan stepped closer.
“I asked you a question.””
My father’s face had become unreadable.
Finally, he said, “Your uncle.””
I frowned.
“My uncle?””
Ryan turned toward me.
“We don't have an uncle.””
“Yes,” Dad said.
“We do.””
I stared at him.
“Then why have I never heard of him?””
My father looked toward the floor.
“Because Jonathan died before you were born.””
Mom shook her head.
“No.””
Everyone turned.
She was crying again.
“He didn't.””
My father’s eyes hardened.
“Margaret.””
“I can't do this anymore.””
She wrapped her arms around herself.
“Not after tonight.””
Ryan looked between them.
“What happened to Jonathan?””
Dad said nothing.
Mom whispered, “He didn't die.””
I felt a strange pressure building behind my eyes.
“Then where is he?””
My mother looked at me.
And for the first time all night, I saw something that wasn't fear.
It was shame.
“He was the first person who tried to stop Black Lantern.””
Mercer stiffened.
“You knew him?””
Mom nodded.
“We all did.””
Vale stepped closer.
“What happened?””
My father answered.
“He disappeared.””
“That's what you told everyone?””
“Yes.””
“What really happened?””
Dad didn't respond.
Mercer reached into the folder and pulled out an old photograph.
He placed it on the table.
A younger version of my father stood beside two men.
One was David Vale.
The other looked so much like me that my chest tightened.
Dark hair.
Gray-green eyes.
The same slight crease between his eyebrows.
I picked up the photograph.
“That's him.””
Mom nodded.
“Jonathan Whitaker.””
“How old was he?””
“Thirty-two.””
“And Dad?””
“Thirty.””
I stared at the photograph.
“Why did nobody tell us?””
My mother looked at me.
“Because Jonathan discovered what they were doing.””
“What?””
“He discovered Black Lantern wasn't simply gathering intelligence.””
She swallowed.
“They were manipulating people.””
Mercer took the photograph back.
“Jonathan found evidence that the program was using American citizens as test subjects.””
My blood ran cold.
“Test subjects?””
Vale nodded.
“Memory suppression. Behavioral conditioning. Identity manipulation.””
I looked at my wrist.
“The drug.””
“Yes,” Vale said.
I suddenly couldn't hear anything else.
The room blurred.
I remembered the motel.
The white pills.
A glass of water.
A woman saying, This will help with the headaches.
I hadn't been nineteen.
I had been twenty.
The memory shifted.
I saw my father standing in a doorway.
But he wasn't alone.
Beside him was another man.
Jonathan.
“You said Dad didn't order it,” I whispered.
Vale looked at me.
“He didn't.””
“Then who did?””
My mother closed her eyes.
“Jonathan.””
The room went silent.
I stared at her.
“You just said he tried to stop Black Lantern.””
“He did.””
“Then why would he order anything against me?””
“He didn't order it against you.””
She looked at my wrist.
“He ordered it for you.””
I didn't understand.
“What?””
Mom moved toward me.
“Jonathan was trying to hide you.””
“From whom?””
“Everyone.””
She reached for the photograph.
“After he discovered the program, he realized they had identified you as the person who had witnessed the senator's murder.””
Mercer nodded.
“He knew they would come for you.””
“So he erased my memory?””
“Temporarily,” Mom said.
“He was trying to remove the information they were searching for.””
I shook my head.
“That doesn't make sense.””
Vale answered.
“It does.””
I looked at him.
“How?””
“Because the information wasn't in your memory.””
He pointed toward the metal disc.
“It was encoded through your memory.””
I stared at him.
“Explain.””
Vale moved to the terminal.
“Black Lantern developed a system that used human memory as a cipher. You weren't carrying a list of names in your head like a file.””
He looked at my tattoo.
“You were carrying the key to a file.””
My mouth went dry.
“So when they erased my memory…”
“They thought they had destroyed the key.””
Mercer nodded.
“But Jonathan knew they hadn't.””
I looked toward my mother.
“How did Jonathan know all this?””
She took a shaky breath.
“Because he built part of the system.””
My father finally spoke.
“He designed the encryption protocols.””
I turned toward him.
“You knew.””
“Yes.””
“And you let him work on it.””
“At first.””
Dad's voice became quieter.
“I thought it was defensive technology.””
Vale laughed.
“Until they began using it on civilians.””
Dad looked at him.
“Yes.””
“And that's when Jonathan turned against them.””
My father nodded.
“What happened to him?””
Nobody answered.
Then a sound came from above.
Three dull knocks.
Everyone froze.
The same pattern.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Ryan looked toward the ceiling.
“Is someone upstairs?””
Mercer raised his weapon.
“No one should be.””
The intercom clicked on.
A man's voice filled the room.
“George.””
My father went pale.
The voice continued.
“You've run out of places to hide.””
I recognized it.
Not from memory.
From the party.
David Vale had spoken about him.
Everett Sloan.
But Sloan was dead.
Or supposed to be.
Dad whispered, “No.””
Mercer moved toward the control panel.
“Cut the speakers.””
Dad shook his head.
“You can't.””
“Why?””
“Because they're not connected to the house.””
I stared at him.
“Then what are they connected to?””
My father looked at the floor.
“The old network.””
Ryan frowned.
“What old network?””
“The one Jonathan built.””
Vale’s face changed.
“Where is he?””
Dad didn't answer.
Vale grabbed his jacket.
“Where is Jonathan?””
“I don't know.””
“You're lying.””
“I haven't seen him in eleven years.””
The speaker crackled.
Then another voice came through.
A woman's voice.
My voice.
“Claire.””
I froze.
The prerecorded woman from the earlier message.
“Come to the basement elevator.””
Ryan whispered, “That's not possible.””
The voice continued.
“Bring David Vale.””
I looked at Vale.
“And leave everyone else.””
The speaker clicked off.
Silence returned.
Mercer shook his head.
“No.””
I looked at him.
“She knows where Jonathan is.””
“We don't know that.””
“But she knew about this room.””
“She could have had access.””
“And she knew you were here.””
Mercer didn't answer.
Ryan stepped toward me.
“Claire, we're not splitting up.””
I looked at him.
“You lied to me.””
“I told you what I remembered.””
“You told me just enough to make me doubt myself.””
His face tightened.
“I was protecting you.””
I almost laughed.
Then I noticed something on his hand.
A faint scar along his thumb.
The same scar appeared in the photograph.
I pointed.
“That.””
Ryan looked down.
“What?””
“You've had that scar all this time?””
“Yes.””
“Where did you get it?””
“I don't remember.””
Vale suddenly looked alarmed.
“Ryan.””
“What?””
“Show me your palm.””
Ryan hesitated.
“Why?””
“Please.””
Ryan turned his hand over.
There was a tiny tattoo near the base of his thumb.
A black triangle.
My stomach dropped.
“What is that?””
Ryan stared at it.
“I've never seen it before.””
Mercer stepped closer.
“Yes, you have.””
“What?””
Mercer pulled out a magnifying glass from the evidence kit and examined it.
“It’s a marker.””
“For what?”” Ryan asked.
“For memory conditioning.””
Ryan backed away.
“No.””
Vale grabbed his wrist.
“Where were you stationed before the hotel?””
“Fort Bragg.””
“Before that?””
“Virginia.””
“Exact location?””
Ryan shook his head.
“I don't know.””
Vale looked at me.
“Neither does he.””
I understood.
“Oh my God.””
Mercer nodded.
“Jonathan didn't only alter Claire's memory.””
He looked at Ryan.
“He altered your brother's too.””
Ryan staggered backward.
“No.””
I caught his arm.
“Ryan.””
He looked at me with panic in his eyes.
“I don't remember him.””
“Who?””
“Jonathan.””
My father sat down.
His face had gone gray.
“That's the problem.””
I looked at him.
“What?””
He stared at Ryan.
“Jonathan didn't erase Ryan's memory of himself.””
Dad slowly raised his eyes toward me.
“He erased Ryan's memory of what Ryan did.””
The room went silent.
Ryan pulled away from me.
“What did I do?””
My father closed his eyes.
“On the night of the hotel…”
His voice broke.
“You were the one who pulled the trigger.””
Ryan went completely still.
“No.””
Vale looked at him.
“You were holding the gun.””
“No.””
“You shot someone.””
“No.””
“You shot Dr. Reed.””
Ryan's face collapsed.
I remembered the hallway.
The red light.
Dr. Reed holding the folder.
Ryan standing behind her.
The gunshot.
She fell.
I screamed.
Ryan dropped to his knees.
“I didn't know.””
Vale knelt in front of him.
“They made you believe she was going to expose Claire.””
Ryan looked at me.
“I killed her?””
I couldn't answer.
Then the basement elevator suddenly powered on.
A bell rang.
The doors opened by themselves.
Inside was a single envelope.
My name was written across it.
*CLAIRE WHITAKER*
I stepped toward it.
Mercer grabbed my shoulder.
“Don't.””
I stopped.
A second line was visible beneath my name.
I could barely read it.
*FROM JONATHAN.*
Dad made a sound behind me.
“No.””
The elevator lights flickered.
Then the envelope slid forward across the floor.
It stopped directly at my feet.
I picked it up.
Inside was a single photograph.
A man stood beside a hospital bed.
Older now.
Gray hair.
A scar across his eyebrow.
Jonathan Whitaker.
His hand rested on the shoulder of a woman lying unconscious beneath a white sheet.
Me.
The photograph had been taken three months ago.
On the back, one sentence was written.
*I DIDN'T ERASE YOUR MEMORY, CLAIRE. I HID IT FROM THE MAN WHO WAS WATCHING YOU.*
I looked up.
“Who?””
The elevator doors began closing.
May you like
A final line appeared on the back of the photograph beneath the first.
*And that man is standing in this room right now.*
