Read Skeleton 03 - The Constantine Codex for Free Online

the crazy twists and turns life has taken since I met you, it’s a mistake I’d make again and again and again!” She reached over and squeezed his knee.
    After crossing the bridge at the Cape Cod Canal, they headed northwest on I-495 toward the Boston suburbs. It was a luminous spring morning, the air nicely scrubbed from a shower the night before. But then an intrusion. Jon noticed it first in his left outer mirror: a dark green Cadillac Escalade was following their silver Buick LaCrosse, and it seemed to stay behind them, even when he slowed down to encourage passing.
    He tromped on the accelerator to eighty miles per hour, and the distance between the two cars lengthened. But the Escalade suddenly sped up in order to reach its apparently chosen perch just behind their car.
    Shannon knew what was happening without his saying a word. She peered back anxiously and exclaimed, “Jon! They’re wearing turbans —all four of them!”
    Jon quickly looked back and saw that Shannon was right. An icy stab of terror rippled inside him. “It’s just not possible that anyone would try to act on the fatwa this soon, is it?”
    “Who knows? Maybe we’ve been followed.”
    “Stay cool. I have a plan.” Jon started slowing down to 50 mph, then 40 and even 35. The Escalade slowed also.
    “Jon, have you lost your mind?” she wondered.
    “Strategy, dear. I may even stop the car. But the moment they also stop and get out, I’ll floor it. Just hang on and keep your head down.”
    His plan came to nothing. Suddenly the Escalade sped past them, four turbaned heads so busy in conversation that they didn’t even notice Jon and Shannon.
    Jon broke out laughing. “We’re bloody fools, Shannon. They were Sikhs , not Muslims! It’s Sikhs who wear turbans.”
    “Well, cut us some slack, Jon. A death threat is enough to turn anyone a little paranoid.”

    When they arrived in Weston, they expected to find a security gate across their street, police patrolling the area, and angry neighbors wanting to know why they and their families were being imprisoned. But they saw nothing of the kind. The shady little lane was the same picture of tranquility they had left.
    “Obviously, security hasn’t arrived yet,” Shannon observed.
    Jon pressed the garage door opener and drove in. Just as he was inserting the house key into the lock, a man appeared out of nowhere and said, “Sorry to startle you, Professor and Mrs. Weber. Jim Behnke, FBI.” He flashed his credentials. “Do you mind if I join you inside to explain our security arrangements?”
    Over coffee and rolls in the kitchen, Behnke laid it all out. “We’ve set up an electronic fence around your entire property—invisible, of course—that will alert us to any attempts at intrusion. Now, do you see that aging blue Dodge van parked across the street?” He pointed. “It’s really an electronic base with communications and radar. It will monitor everything in the area, including your phone calls. But just call this number first every time you need privacy, and we’ll tune out.” He handed them a card, then continued. “Anyone ringing your doorbell will be under the tightest surveillance. But don’t worry; we won’t bother the mailman or delivery people.”
    The briefing went on for some time. Finally Behnke gave transponders to both Jon and Shannon with panic buttons to press in case of emergency.
    “But what happens when we leave the house?” Shannon wondered.
    “We’ll also install GPDs—global positioning devices—on both your cars so we can track your locations at all times.”
    “Will we be tailed . . . followed?” Jon asked.
    “Perhaps. But if so, you’ll never know it.”
    As Behnke prepared to leave, Jon had one more question. “Okay, let’s imagine a worst-case scenario: what if they come here in force—more than one or two people?”
    Behnke pointed out the kitchen window facing the backyard. “You have a pretty dense grove of trees behind your