In front of him shirts were hanging from a head-high hangar pole. He parted them and ducked beneath the pole, standing on the other side of it. On the rear wall a horizontal pole at waist-level had ties and belts hanging from it. The pole was four feet wide.
He stretched his arms, pushed in on both ends of the pole, and heard a click. With both hands he lifted the pole up. Half the wall slid with it, revealing a three-foot-by-four steel safe. The previous owner had installed it. A similar one was installed in the bedroom closet in the lower level of the barn.
He parted the ties and belts and punched four numbers on a keypad, grabbed the handle, and lifted it. The door slid up, revealing a large cavity with weapons, money, passports, and other gear, along with the briefcase with the Paragon file.
He took out a silencer for the Glock, a second Glock which he put inside the briefcase, and night vision goggles. Debating on a fixed blade, he decided the OTF knife was enough.
Closing the safe, he moved the clothing back, and stuffed the silenced Glock beneath his shirt into a custom leather belt holster. He took the flash drive out of the briefcase, deciding to hide it in the house.
Once in the Jeep he put on the goggles and started the engine, keeping the lights off. He drove north into the darkened woods, through a narrow stretch he had marked years ago with tiny fluorescent paint dots on trees.
Whenever necessary, he cleared brush from the path. The rough trail ran half a mile north of his driveway entrance, and then turned east toward the county road. He drove slowly and carefully, not wanting to risk a flat tire.
Moths flitted by in front of him and he rolled down the window and listened. Crickets chirped. An owl hooted. He put the window back up to keep out the mosquitoes.
Minutes later he neared the gully before the county road and slowed down. Stopping, he made sure the courtesy lights were switched off before he opened the door. He ran up to the road, looking north and south with the night goggles.
No cars. To the south, the county road curved so that anyone south of it wouldn’t see him. He ran back to the Jeep. Edging the vehicle up onto the road shoulder, he turned and headed north, still going slow to reduce engine noise. Keeping his lights off, he checked his rearview mirror frequently.
Just before the highway, which ran east-west, he parked on the shoulder of the road, ran up to the intersection, looked in both directions, and ran back to the Jeep. When no traffic approached from the west, he made the turn east. After five miles he was convinced no one had followed him. The night goggles came off and the headlights came on.
He punched the gas pedal.
CHAPTER 32
Danker had never been dishonest in his life in anything that really mattered so he wasn’t sure what to think of himself now. It helped when he angrily reminded himself that Steel had screwed up his body and career.
He stood behind a big oak tree near the county road, just north of the curve past Steel’s driveway. Using night vision binoculars, he had risked one quick look—enough to see Steel drive away in his Jeep. He figured the guy might be parking his Jeep in the woods and sleeping in his house. He had almost missed him coming out of the woods. It didn’t surprise him. He expected something bizarre from Steel.
Limping back along the county road, he hurried to his Taurus, parked just south of the driveway. If Steel had seen his parked car, he had planned to say he had come out to talk to him about the Op again. Lame. But he didn’t care. He knew he needed some luck, and now he had it.
Inside his car he pulled a black hood over his face, night goggles over the mask. He drove slowly down the county road, lights off.
Before the second curve, he parked, got out, and walked along the road until he could just barely view north. He glimpsed the Jeep stopped before the highway, and he stopped, backing up a few steps to keep out of sight. Steel had to be using night vision too, driving with his lights off.
Danker waited ten seconds and took another peek just in time to see Steel make a right onto the highway, heading east. Walking back to his car, he spun it around and drove back to where Steel had exited the forest. He parked on the county road.
Christie had told him that Steel would have his driveway gate locked. And it would take him too much time to limp in and out from the county road. The only option was to drive in.
He was sweating. It was a risk. If he had a flat tire or didn’t see the path clearly, his car would be stuck on Steel’s property. He would have to call a cab or friend.
He knew from CID that Steel would get a security alert for an intruder. He waited forty-five minutes. Long enough to make Steel think twice about returning—and enough time for what he had planned even if Steel did come back.
He drove off the county road into the woods, his meaty hands clenching the wheel. Immediately he spotted the tiny fluorescent dots on the trees and used them to follow the path. In minutes the driveway turnaround appeared.
Stopping in the woods, he grabbed his Glock and hobbled to the edge of the trees. And stared. It shocked him to see how nice Steel’s place was. Steel’s lawyer wife pulled a big paycheck or Steel swam in dirt.
He cursed. It was either the house or the barn. There wasn’t time to search both.
He limped through the forest until he was across from the side of the house. Gritting his teeth, he quickly strode the dozen steps to the house in a normal gait, rounding the corner and heading to the back door. There he pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and put them on. His knee hurt like hell, but at least Steel wouldn’t catch him limping on camera.
Christie had told him about the locks on the back door. Standard. According to Christie, Steel trusted her. He snorted in derision. The great Steel, driven to ground by a woman.
Danker had made keys at a locksmith job for four years in high school, and often had been sent to open doors when people had locked themselves out. Easy. From his pocket he pulled out his tools and was inside in seconds, shutting the door behind him. He saw the stairs leading up to the second level.
“Hell,” he muttered.
He gave several more curses while climbing them. Working fast, he went through the master bedroom and found the safe, which soured him. Even a sledgehammer wouldn’t help.
He stared at it, hoping it was meant to mislead thieves so they would stop searching elsewhere. It probably held Steel’s guns and other weapons. Steel wouldn’t want them loose in the house with a child running around. He hoped it wasn’t his only hiding place.
Pulling the pole back down to hide the safe, he put the clothes back in place. He quickly went through the other rooms, careful to leave everything just as he found it. The kid’s room was set up like a shrine and still held the girl’s things. It looked like Steel expected his daughter to come back from the dead.
He returned to the ground level. He was running out of time. Standing in the living room, he tried to picture Steel in his house, hiding something. It would be someplace unusual. That would suit Steel.
Cursing the knee on every step, he hobbled into the kitchen. The freezer and refrigerator yielded nothing. He went through the cupboards one by one, the upper level first. Nada.
Growling, he slapped the counter with his hand. His watch said he had to get out in ten minutes, fifteen at most, to be safe.
The lower cupboards were all that were left. It was harder because he couldn’t squat due to the knee and was forced to sit on the floor. He jerked open one narrow cupboard, which held rows of vegetable cans.
He almost slammed the door shut, but something looked off. Sticking his arm in, he touched the back, noting how far in his limb went. Sliding his butt over the wood floor to the adjacent cupboard, he quickly stuck his arm into that one. It went in three inches farther.
Working fast, he pulled the canned goods out of the narrow cupboard. Next he pressed his fingers against the wood at the back. When he reached the top, the wo
od depressed under his pressure and a board toppled down, clattering against the bottom shelf.
He pulled out a large leather pouch from the hidden cavity. It was zippered and held a flash drive, a SIG Sauer P320, and a stack of hundred-dollar bills banded together. About twenty grand.
Steel was in the Army, supposedly loyal as the founding fathers, and he still planned for things going bad—which they had. He shook his head. This had to be related to the two men who tried to kill Steel. Steel had to be dirty. Maybe the flash drive held the evidence he needed to prove it.
He stared at the money. A down payment from Steel for ruining his knee. It wasn’t really stealing, he reasoned, if he took it from someone who had crossed the line. He shoved the pouch and gun back into the cubby, his fingers racing to stack the clinking cans back into the cupboard.
He quickly backtracked through the forest to his car. Sweat poured down his chest as he peered through the rear window while backing out. His knuckles hurt because he gripped the wheel so hard.
It wasn’t until he was on the county road that he heaved a deep breath. In a minute he was on the highway, headed east. He wasn’t followed. Still his throat tightened. He didn’t know what he was getting into.
His actions might blow Christie’s cover. He smirked. Too bad for her. His days were numbered and he didn’t owe her anything. And if he was lucky, the flash drive would be payback for all the hard years of busting his butt.
When he got home he put the flash drive into his computer and scanned the solitary file on it, his thick fingers punching keys fast.
Long ago he had taken some accounting courses. He quickly realized Steel had discovered that someone was playing with the numbers at a corporation called MultiSec. Steel must have been blackmailing them and they decided to take him out. Most likely a separate issue from the Komodo Op. He would have to do some research.
He grinned. This might be an extra pension plan he was looking at. He liked that idea a lot.
CHAPTER 33
Two-thirds of the way in to see Grove, Steel received text alerts of an intruder on his property.
While driving he pulled up photos of a car entering his secret exit, and the intruder entering his house. Even after enlarging the photos he couldn’t identify the man because he wore night vision goggles and a hood.
Someone had watched him leave. Perhaps they knew about the Spirax download.
He had a choice; keep the meeting with Grove or turn around. Grove could help him go to the police. If he returned to his house he might not get anything out of it besides another dead body or injuries—or lose the copies of the file he had with him now. Or the man might be gone, or there might be a dozen intruders if this man was just the point person.
He kept driving.
He reached the restaurant and sat in a rear corner booth again. The Fish Shack was crowded as Grove predicted. A younger couple sat at a nearby table. Steel watched their smiles and bright eyes. That kind of connection seemed lost to him. He and Carol didn’t have it anymore.
Grove was already a half hour late. Steel grew impatient. Maybe Grove had alerted whoever was searching his house now.
He was about to leave when Grove walked in. The big man joined him in a hurry, grabbing a beer on the way to the table. His brown suit was wrinkled, his black hair in disarray, and his usually energetic face looked sweaty and fatigued.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Busier than expected.” He didn’t offer his hand.
Steel tried to gauge Grove’s expression. All the way over he wondered if Grove had used him to find the Paragon file, because Grove wasn’t able to. Even though he had called Grove, maybe Grove realized the convenience of helping him. Maybe Grove knew about Carol’s kidnapping, and maybe he intended Carol to be leverage if Steel found something.
“Beatles and blitz at three.” He watched Grove for a reaction.
Grove looked at him with bloodshot eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“The month before he died, Tom Bellue often got up during the middle of the night. Janet said he joked about getting a late-night snack by saying Beatles and blitz at three.”
“Some type of code?” Grove’s forehead wrinkled.
“He encrypted a carrier audio file to hide a copy of his audit, then programmed it so that it was only accessible after three a.m., probably for an hour.” He paused. “Bellue was worried to take precautions like that.”
Grove’s shoulders hunched. “You actually found a file?”
“Paragon. Ring any bells?”
Grove sat back in his chair, his eyes wide. “Paragon was a weapons missile project MultiSec worked on for the DOD ten years ago. It never made it to the third milestone for full-scale production and deployment. Cost close to a hundred million before the project was killed.” Grove took a sip of beer. “Where’s the file?”
“In my briefcase.” He kicked it under the table. “Do you want it?” He watched Grove carefully.
“We have to look at it, don’t we?”
“Bellue was murdered for this report.”
“Are you kidding?” Grove swung his gaze around the restaurant, then back at Steel. His voice lowered. “How can you be sure?”
“The way he was killed was a little too neat and the weapon used was not your standard burglar’s gun. My guess is he was tortured first.”
“Why didn’t he crack? Tom wasn’t a soldier. He was an information systems audit manager.”
“If he was tortured he probably knew he would be killed. My guess is he held out.” Steel gave a thin smile. “Even information systems audit managers can be brave in the face of death.”
“You know what you’re saying?” Grove leaned over the table, his voice hushed. “This means someone in MultiSec or Spirax killed Bellue. We’ve got a mole.”
“Maybe. Any ideas?”
Grove finished his beer. A server came and he waved him off. “We have to go to the police.”
Steel believed Grove was sincere. “First you should have a look at the audit. I’m not an accountant and I can’t make sense of it.”
“Sure, sure.” Grove again swung his gaze around the restaurant.
“I was followed the night I saw Janet Bellue.”
Grove’s face tightened.
“At the time I thought it might not be connected, but now I think it is. Whoever tailed me might have followed you the first time we met.”
Grove’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you tell me? What if I was followed here tonight? I’m not into this cloak and dagger stuff like you are, Steel. I don’t want to die. I—”
“My guess is they haven’t touched you because they don’t want more scrutiny. Which means if we act quickly we’ll be all right.”
Grove wiped his forehead. “Still, it puts me at risk and—"
“They tried to kidnap Carol.”
Grove sat back, gaping at him, and then nodded. “All right. What do we do?”
“We look at the audit, see what’s there, then we go to the police.”
“You take the file. I didn’t come with a briefcase and I shouldn’t leave with one.”
Steel finished off the lemon mineral water he had ordered. “I didn’t have a tail on me tonight. Let’s guess that you might have.”
“What’ll we do?” Grove wiped his forehead. “I’ve got a wife and kids.”
Steel looked at him hard. “Is that what you told Janet?”
Grove’s face reddened. “It’s none of your damn business what happened between me and Janet. I told you that just so you would understand. If you don’t, that’s tough.”
“You’re right, I don’t.”
“Are we through here?” Grove’s fist bunched on the table.
“We’ll take my Jeep. It’s in the back lot.” Steel threw money on the table. He didn’t look forward to spending more time wi
th Grove, and he was angry at himself for his comment about Janet Bellue.
Grove stood up. “Where are we going?”
He grabbed the briefcase. “Straight to the police. Can you look at the information while I drive?”
“Yes.”
They exited the restaurant and Steel surveyed the front. The parking lot wrapped around the building, and he had parked in the rear overflow lot. Cars were pulling in and out of the front lot and pedestrians strolled past them. Nightclubs bracketed either side of the Fish Shack.
Steel led Grove toward the rear lot. There were fewer pedestrians, but he kept alert. Grove glanced everywhere, his forehead creased.
When they reached the back lot, Steel heard footsteps behind them. It could be anyone, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He nudged Grove to take a right past a line of parked cars. As they turned, he glimpsed a stocky man wearing a short coat.
“Don’t turn around,” Steel said quietly.
Grove stiffened.
After a half-dozen yards, he stopped Grove with his hand and faced him. He pulled the silenced Glock, keeping it hidden next to his thigh.
Grove’s eyes widened. “What are we going to do?” he whispered.
The man behind them rounded the car at the end of the row and reached beneath his jacket. He pulled out a gun but kept it down beside his leg too. Amateur. Steel didn’t wait for him to raise it. He twisted and shot him in the stomach. The man went down.
Grove gasped.
Behind the fallen man, a black Cadillac with dark-tinted windows slowly rolled toward them. The driver might be looking for a parking space, but Steel doubted it.
A tall man stood up behind the trunk of a nearby parked car, aiming a gun at them.
Steel pulled Grove down in a crouch between the two closest cars and scrambled between them, toward the next row of cars. He stopped when he glimpsed two men at the end of the far row, hidden behind cars, one of them the tall man. Steel took a shot at each of them, and they ducked down.
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