Minds: The Secret Society

Chapter 2

Twenty minutes later, M was striding behind a muscular uniformed guard. He knew this man well and was on good terms with him. The guard had agreed to let him see Isaiah, if only for a few minutes.

The guard swung open a heavy metal door and there sat Isaiah in a plain wooden chair. His hands were cuffed behind him and his legs were bound with a heavy chain.

M strode towards the man who so resembled his Natalie. “Isaiah. Your sister sent me here.”

“She did?” Isaiah asked, astounded.

“Yeah. She wants to know what happened.”

Isaiah gave a shaky sigh. He glanced towards the guard, who was staring in the opposite direction, but M knew that the guard was listening closely. “I…I have a confession to make,” Natalie's brother said softly.

M leaned in close, watching the young man intently. “What is it?”

Isaiah looked at him miserably. “I didn't mean to get caught. They're going to be so angry.”

“Who's going to be angry?” M inquired.

Isaiah looked up at him with haunted eyes. “The people I work with.”

“I'll tell you one thing. You definitely are Natalie's brother . . .” M jokingly said. “What people? What do they do?”

“All sorts of things,” Isaiah whispered. “They are a complete working machine that governs all sectors of our world,” he closed his eyes. “I was a thief. I started stealing for them two years ago. My family never knew.”

M's blood ran cold at the thought of a secret criminal organization. “Isaiah, I need you to tell me everything you know. What is this organization? Who's the leader? Where are they based?”

Isaiah swallowed, looking uncertain, and then he nodded. “Sure, I'll tell you, but promise me that you will keep me safe . . . My sister too,” he said quivering in fear of what he was about to say.

“You have my word, I'll keep you safe.”

Isaiah took a deep breath. “It's called—“

But his words were drowned in a clanging alarm bell that seemed to crash around them on all sides. M's eyes flew open in surprise. He whipped his head up and looked at the guard, whose hand had dropped to the bottom of his gun.

“It's a Code Red! It's a Code Red!” The guard shouted.

“Calm the hell down, don't yell when you are right next to me.”

“Come on, I have to get you out of here.” The guard seized M's arm. “I'll lock the prisoner in here. He'll be safe, and he can't get out. We have to go to the surveillance room and find out what's going on.”

M rushed through the deserted prison behind the guard. Evidently, the trouble was taking place in the yard, where all the prisoners were gathered. M tried to catch a glimpse of the commotion through the tiny barred windows they passed as they walked, but couldn't see anything.

The guard yanked on a door marked SURVEILLANCE and they quickly stepped inside. Two other guards and the fat, angry-looking warden stood in front of the monitors lining the walls.

“M!” The warden barked. M knew the warden well, and although he didn't particularly like the man, he respected him. “I should have known you'd be here. Take a look at this.” He pointed towards the central monitor, which overlooked the yard. It was currently in a state of lockdown; all the prisoners lay on their bellies with their hands over their heads as guards checked them.

“What happened?” M asked quickly.

“I'll tell you what happened,” the warden said shortly. “Three men escaped through a hole under the fence before we caught on to what was happening.” He pointed at another monitor that showed a hallway. Two guards flanked a handcuffed prisoner as they strode down the narrow passage.

“We managed to catch the guy who helped them escape. There's something funny, M. He didn't even try to escape himself. I want you to go talk to him.”

“He just stood there?” M asked with a raised eyebrow.

“The bastard is just unlucky, as it just happens, the world's best detective is here!” the warden snarled. “Get in there and interrogate him, and tell us what you find out afterwards.”

M nodded, “Alright, fine.”

“Thank you,” the warden said as he turned back towards the screens.

The same guard who had brought him to the surveillance room led him towards the interrogation room. M nodded towards the two guards who were standing outside the door.

“The warden sent me. I want to question him,” M said.

The two guards nodded and let him in without comment. M was the most famous detective for miles around, and they were used to him coming and going as he pleased to help solve various cases.

M stood in the middle of the room, watching the man who sat at the metal table. He was unremarkable looking. There was an expression of pleased calm upon his face.

M crossed his arms. “Hello, little rabbit. So let's start right away and get to the point where you sing like a bird, and I don't have to waste any time.”

The man rolled his eyes towards M, back and forth.

“You mean, you didn't understand?” The man said in a silky voice. His eyes, a muddy shade of brown, unnerved M. “I'm sorry M, the boss said you would. . .”

“Understand what?” M asked. “That you are a complete moron?”

“Perhaps,” the man whispered, his eyes glinting. “But I had another reason for helping those prisoners escape.”

“Such as?”

“All in good time,” the man said with a smile.

M changed the subject. He found it was a good method for getting valuable information from an otherwise silent suspect. “What's your name?”

“That doesn't matter. What matters is what I have for you, M.”

“And what do you have for me?” M demanded.

The prisoner indicated his cuffed hands. “It's in my pocket. I can't get it myself. Come, see what I brought.”

M hesitated. He knew that it was irresponsible to reach into a prisoners pocket; what if it was something dangerous? But his curiosity overwhelmed him, and he slipped his hand into the pocket of the prisoner's orange coveralls.

He pulled out a plain white envelope. Something about the stark whiteness made him uneasy. He opened it and pulled out a blank sheet of white paper.

M raised his eyebrows. “Is this a joke?”

“Turn it over,” the man whispered, his lips lifting in a grin.

M flipped over the sheet of paper, and his blood ran cold. He felt as if his heart had stopped.

The other side of the paper was blank too, except for an address scrawled across the top.

Natalie's address.

“I'd get there soon, if I were you,” the mysterious man said with a giggle. M flung the sheet of paper away from him, where it floated lazily to the floor.

By the time it settled on the ground M was gone; rushing towards his darling's house, afraid of what he was going to find, and terrified that he would be too late.