Part 16 (2/2)
”It's a government project,” said Morgan. ”And then again, it isn't.”
Sarah sat up straight. ”Morgan! Our children are missing! We've been hopscotching across the country chasing an academy that's never there. We don't need: don't know, might know, can't know! Give us some facts we can work with or let us get some sleep!”
Morgan took her las.h.i.+ng in stride, and pulled out a doc.u.ment. ”This might help explain it. It's last year's budget report from the Department of Education.”
Nate took a look at it. Sarah flopped back down on the bed and waited to be impressed.
Morgan guided Nate to the third page of columns and figures and pointed to a small, obscure item: Educational Research Grant. ”Here's a tidy little expense that's been slipping through unquestioned for the past five years. The president was never told about it, and neither was the current secretary of education.”
Nate was impressed, and spoke out loud for Sarah's benefit. ”Twenty million dollars.”
”Per year.”
Sarah raised her head. ”That's government money?”
”Our money,” said Morgan. ”Your taxes, my taxes.”
”Wow!” said Nate, actually happy, tapping the paper. ”A fact! A real fact!”
Morgan explained, ”Five years ago, the previous president-and several of his cronies in Congress-allotted these funds for research in global education, and part of the program was to set up special laboratories to test their theories with volunteer students.”
Now Sarah was sitting up, almost impressed. ”The campuses that aren't there anymore.”
Morgan nodded. ”Exactly. It all looked very legitimate.”
Nate asked, ”So why aren't the campuses there anymore?”
”Why isn't the Light of Day Youth Shelter there anymore?” Morgan asked rhetorically.
”Why was Alvin Rogers murdered?” Sarah asked.
”Why is the mysterious redhead, Margaret Jones, going by so many different names?”
”And why were our kids taken away without warning, without a trace?” Sarah said with an obvious bitterness.
”Somebody's up to no good and hiding it well,” said Nate.
”Even from the president,” said Morgan. ”Whatever this project was supposed to be, it's turning out to be something else. He and the secretary of education had their suspicions, but with no solid facts, he couldn't order an investigation without looking foolish and drawing vicious attacks from his enemies in Congress, not to mention the media.”
”And so the facts are all buried,” said Sarah. ”Cleared and reforested, plowed under a farmer's field ...”
”Imploded.”
Nate and Sarah looked at him strangely.
”Haven't you heard? The Dartmoor Hotel was imploded just yesterday. It's gone. Demolished.”
By now, Nate and Sarah were getting used to such information-almost. They needed a moment to digest that.
Morgan continued, ”But if we can find an actual, operating campus and find out what it's really being used for, then maybe we'll get that investigation authorized and stop this monster in its tracks.”
”Hmm,” Nate mused. ”A monster.”
”Excuse me?”
”You'll have to read my daughter's English paper.”
”Anyway,” Morgan continued, ”this whole thing is a government project in that it's receiving government money, but I would say it's not a government project because it's a renegade, carrying out a secret agenda that could be entirely illegal, to put it mildly”
”But we'd have to prove that before anything can be done about it, so we're investigating, but not officially”
”That is where things stand, yes.”
”I'm sort of impressed,” said Sarah.
”Morgan,” said Nate, ”we're here, but we don't know where to look. Margaret Jones told the kids the academy's up in the mountains, but there are a lot of mountains around here.”
”Oh, yes! About Margaret Jones! Your information was very helpful. I haven't been able to go through official channels, at least officially, but some friends in the right places have filled in some blanks. She might be in this area.”
That did impress Sarah. ”I want her, Morgan.”
Morgan nodded with understanding. ”You'll be the first to know.”
”In the meantime ...” Nate unfolded a U.S. Forestry map of the Idaho panhandle. ”We've got a few zillion acres of national forest to comb through....”
Elisha, confined to her room, prayed for hope, hoped in G.o.d, and did all she could with soap, a washcloth, and a hair dryer to get the gra.s.s stains out of her burgundy blazer. Having a vicious brawl on the lawn wasn't good for the Knight-Moore uniform, and she had to please Booker-or at least not make him madat the three o'clock meeting.
The door opened, and Cher came in, not at all her usual, bubbly self.
”Oh, Sally! I'm so sorry! I heard about Jerry!”
Elisha was trying to hold herself together, carefully brus.h.i.+ng the elbow of her blazer. ”We just have to pray they'll let Jerry out and not hurt him-” Her voice broke and she stopped, concen trating on the sleeve of her blazer, trying not to remember the images of Alvin Rogers out of his mind.
”Maybe if Mr. Booker wins.”
”Wins?”
”You know, gets his way, and everybody does things by the rules. Maybe then things can be the way they were.”
”Cher ...”
”Mariah.”
”Mariah? Can't you just settle on one name?”
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