The Law of Nines

“Because these people are the board of directors of the Daggett Trust. The Daggett Trust has a large stake in this. The directors have to be there in order to make this happen. While the technicality is written in convoluted legal terms, what it boils down to is that they have to, in essence, approve of the title to the land going to you.”

“What do you mean, they have to approve it? I thought that if I meet the conditions of the inheritance, which I do, then the land goes to me.”

“Yes, that’s right. But their approval is one of those conditions, as is payment of the legal fees. You do recall me telling you about the fees, don’t you?”

Alex thought it an odd thing to bring up. “Yes. How much?”

“I don’t have the final figures on the expenses, yet, but it will be a little under ten thousand dollars.”

Alex thought the legal fees were pretty hefty, but he didn’t say so. He didn’t know how much work was involved or how much lawyers were supposed to cost in such matters. Throwing in the danger element, he supposed that it didn’t sound so out of line.

“What if they don’t approve for some reason?”

“Alex, believe me, these people are looking forward to you having the land in your name.”

“Why?”

“Because the inheritance of this particular piece of land has cast its shadow over a number of people for centuries before it finally settled on you. They know that the land is meant to go to you.”

“How would they know that I’m the one who is supposed to have it?”

There was a long pause before the man answered.

“Because of the Law of Nines.”

Alex almost dropped the phone. Jax’s face lost a little color.

The tires droned on against the pavement and made a rhythmic thump at every expansion joint in the road. Alex couldn’t figure out how the Daggett Trust fit into it all, or how these people would know anything about mirrors, much less the Law of Nines.

“Well?” he whispered to Jax.

She shrugged as she shook her head, as if to say that it made no sense to her, either.

“Alex, are you there?”

Alex cleared his throat. “Where is it you want to meet Hank and Jenna Croft?”

“At the Downeaster Motel in Bangor. The fastest route that will take you in the direction of the land trust is Interstate 95 up through the state. I thought it best to make the stop along that route, in Bangor. I figured that Bangor is a big enough place that it won’t be easy for them to watch as it would be a smaller town closer to the land.”

“That makes sense.”

“The Downeaster Motel is just off of Interstate 95 on Hammond Street, right there in Bangor. I’ll give you exact directions and the address when you get closer, but it’s not hard to find, just a right turn off I-95 north and go up a short distance.”

“All right. Don’t use the phone you’re using right now to call anyone else. Use it exclusively to call us. I see the number on the caller ID. I’ll call you along the way to let you know how we’re doing. If anyone but me calls you on that phone, destroy it and buy a new one and then call me immediately.”

“How long do you think it will take?”

“I don’t know. It’s starting to get dark here now. Probably close to another three days. I want to be careful and not draw attention to us. I also don’t want to show up exhausted and half asleep, either. Not being alert can get you in a world of hurt with these people. I’ll be able to give you a better arrival time as we get closer.”

“Call anytime, day or night. I will have this phone on me all the time.”

“Same here. If anything smells fishy, I want to know about it.”

“You’ve got it. I can assure you that we’re all being extremely careful.”

“What about the other people in your office? Does anyone else know about the land or me?”

“I am the office.”

“What do you mean?”

“There was only me and Walter Buckman. Mr. Lancaster died a number of years back in a car accident.”

That’s what had happened to Alex’s father, but he didn’t say so.

“You and Mr. Buckman handled everything with all your clients by yourselves? No secretaries? No assistants?”

“No, none. We only have one client: the Daggett Trust.”

Alex lifted an eyebrow to Jax.

“You need to consider everything that Walter Buckman knew and assume that they now know it all,” Jax said. “These people are perfectly willing to use any means necessary to get answers. Assume that if he liked salt on his eggs, they know how much.”

“We have already made that same assumption. We’ve taken efforts to close off any avenues his knowledge would have opened for them.”

“Let’s just hope that it’s not too late,” she said.

“All I can tell you is that we’ve done everything we can think of to minimize the risk. As you’ve said, these people are dangerous. We can’t entirely eliminate every single threat, but we’ve done what we can. Unless you have any other ideas?”

“No,” Jax said. “We know quite well how dangerous these people are, but we don’t know how many people they have, what they’ve been up to, or the specifics of what their plans are.”