Please note, however, that the second installment for the Johnny Vic adventures is on a separate page. Access it by clicking the Johnny Vic Stories button above.
. . . in the first installment of The SEED, Julia realized she was deliberately locked in. She was certain that Alexander Graham Rossweild (the powerful billionaire) wanted her dead. She finally got enough nerve to attempt an escape . . . .
At 3:00 AM Julia tugged at the window. It seemed as if it would never budge, but it finally did open–with a vengeance. When she lowered the ladder, it clattered dully against the thick granite exterior of the mansion. Her mind shrieked, Oh no! What if somebody heard that! She peered out of the window, but she could not see a thing. The patio was virtually swallowed by the shadow of the West Wing. Paralyzed by fear, Julia clung to the rungs of the ladder. She forced herself to take deep, rhythmic breaths. It helped, but a guilty barrage of questions echoed through her brain. Why didn’t I tell Martin about this when he called the other day? Why didn’t I tell him to watch for the package I sent? Why didn’t I?Julia felt sickened at the thought of Alexander’s unethical team and what they might do with her formula. Ruthless pigs! Why couldn’t they be more like Martin? Sobs of regret gurgled in her throat and the ladder renewed its jittery dance as she forced herself to continue the treacherous climb downward.
Julia dropped to the patio after one last attempt to look around, unaware of the opal button that had pulled loose to settle between the milky white slabs at her feet. She pressed herself against the abutting stonewall as she struggled to catch her breath. She felt glad that she had finally sent her reports to Dr. Martin Bascomb. The thick manilla envelope that she had mailed to the world-renowned botanist contained enough evidence to stop Alexander and all of SanFidel’s schemers. Martin will know how to expose these miserable criminals. Martin always does the right thing.JULIA EMERGED FROM the shadows, comforted by the belief that her report was in the right hands, excited to realize she had escaped unharmed. Without a single glance backwards, she galloped gracelessly toward her car, across the damp expanse of grass . . . right into full view of surveillance camera number four.
MARTIN BASCOMB STILL looked grim when Millicent bustled into his study. My goodness, she thought. I’ve got to cheer him up! Millicent was a trusted housekeeper and friend. She was fiercely loyal to her employer and extremely proud of his reputation as one of the world’s leading botanists.
“Well now, Martin . . . I have the mail.” She waited, her own frown deepening when he did not answer. She tried again. “There’s quite a lot of it today–wouldn’t you like to look through it right now?”
“No, Millie. Just set it over there.” He gestured toward the Victorian library table that was snugged against the window. Millicent’s narrowing gaze leaped from Martin’s fluttering fingers to the table and the expanse of heavy floral drapes behind it. Her eyes widened with inspiration. Some sunshine might help! She zoomed closer and tossed the mail toward yesterday’s stack. It hit its mark, but one thick manilla envelope slid between the table and the colorful swirl of damask peonies and flowing, golden leaves.
MILLICENT PROCLAIMED, “Well, it’s dark as a witch’s cauldron in here, Martin. I’ll just brighten things up a bit.” He paid no attention, so she raised her plump arms to tug at the drapes. She turned to speak once again, unmindful that Julia’s evidence had sunk noiselessly behind the table.
“Now isn’t this better? Don’t you just love the sunshine?” Millicent’s expectant grin was as bright as the sunlight that filtered into the room, but she failed to dispel Martin’s gloom. He grunted absentmindedly. With a sad little sigh, she slipped out of the study. It was almost lunchtime. She would fix one of his favorite dishes. That’ll do the trick!
AS USUAL, JOHN found that today’s foray into the wilderness helped to clear his mind. His uneasiness stemmed from a meeting that he had recently attended. The leader, who called himself Colonel Mitchem, described it as a citizen’s action meeting, but after just one session with them, John was afraid of the type of action they might take. It’s a wonder they didn’t blindfold me, spin me around and drive me all over creation so I wouldn’t be able to find them again, he thought. That’s what a group like that would do in the movies.
. . . that’s it for this installment. More next week.