by Ciana Stone
Morgan spotted and then lost sight of the dog as she wound her way along. So as not to lose him completely, she increased her pace, hastily pushing aside branches and dodging winding honeysuckle. She saw him ahead of her, moving swiftly. A thick mass of thorny brush barred her way, and she again lost sight of Ghost as she made her way around the encumbrance. Once clear of the obstruction she followed a well-beaten deer trail to a small clearing on the opposite side of the thick stand of trees.
She caught a glimpse of Ghost bounding across the clearing as she emerged from the boundary of the forest. Unimpeded by limbs and foliage, she picked up speed, rapidly crossing over the now sunlit meadow in long flowing strides. Ghost entered the stand of trees on the other side of the meadow at full tilt. Morgan was beginning to have doubts about what exactly she was doing, chasing her dog all over the woods at the crack of dawn. It crossed her mind that she was going to feel like a fool if she was chasing after him only to discover that he was simply pursuing the scent of a bitch in heat. Yet some small voice inside told her that it was more than that, so she continued, pushing through the wall of leaves along the border of the trees and venturing forth through a cool grove of pine and spruce.
The discarded needles covered the earth beneath her feet, forming a soft spongy carpet that absorbed all sound of her footsteps as she made her way in search of the dog. She’d gone several hundred yards into the interior of the forest when she noticed the absence of sound ahead of her. Normally inundated with the songs of small tree frogs and insects, the woods rang with an unnatural silence. It was a sure sign that something was moving ahead of her, out of sight.
Morgan paused to scan the area and caught a quick glimpse of white streaking through the trees from left to right, about a hundred feet in front of her. It was Ghost. With her eyes locked on him, she started forward. She had taken no more than three or four steps when she saw Ghost freeze in place. The hair rose on his neck and down his back. His ears flattened themselves out on his head, and his snout pulled up and back, showing tightly clenched white teeth. A low rumble reached her ears.
Alarmed by his combative stance Morgan took flight. Her legs propelled her forward at breakneck speed toward him. She had covered half of the distance that separated them when she saw his husky body jerk. His front paws came off the ground in an odd reflexive move as if suddenly pushed up and back from some unseen force in front of him. A yelp of pain came from him at almost the same moment a short-muffled crack sounded somewhere ahead, off to the right. No sooner had his front paws made contact again with the earth; he staggered once then toppled over on his side, his body heaving with labored breathing.
Panic carried her the few remaining feet. She dove to the ground beside him, and a gasp of surprise and rage escaped her lips. Embedded in his broad chest, a long dart protruded. She yanked the dart free and stuffed it in the pocket of her sweatpants. Gently, she lifted his head and looked into his eyes. They were unfocused, and his head was starting to loll.
Morgan rocked backward and peeled off her sweatpants. With fast, economical movements, she folded the pants and placed the makeshift pillow under his head, trying to elevate it, to open the breathing passages. A shudder passed through him and his eyes closed. With the blink of an eye, his breathing weakened, slow wheezing sounds accompanying his choked respiration.
Devastating grief crashed down on her. Overwhelmed with anguish and helplessness, she threw herself down on his warm body, burying her face in the thick fur of his neck. “Please don't die! Please, Ghost, wake up. Please. Don't leave me.”
Another tremor ran through him, and then all movement stopped. Morgan sat up sharply. For one instant she was frozen in place, and then she grabbed his limp body and shook him roughly. “No, no no no no.”
There was no response from him. She released her hold on him and put her hands over her face, her chest tense with the held breath she could not release. For several long moments, she rocked back and forth, unable to breathe. At last, her body demanded that the air be released. It left her body in a howl of rage and heartache that echoed throughout the forest. When her voice died, there was only silence. Numb with grief, she slumped beside the body of her friend.
A noise brought her suddenly alert. She whipped her eyes in the direction of the sound and saw a slight movement between the trees. Intently she scanned the woods. There it was, about a hundred feet away, moving through the trees.
She spotted the figure, a woman, and leaped to her feet.
Cassie realized she’d been spotted. She turned and ran as fast as she could through the copse of trees. The low heels of her leather shoes dug into the spongy soil and slowed her flight. She turned in what she hoped was the right direction of the vehicle she’d left parked in a small stand of thick cedar on the opposite side of the stream and plunged ahead blindly.
Sharp twigs and thorny vines scoured her arms and legs and tore at her clothes. She paused to free her foot from a snaking briar–covered vine and stole a glance over her shoulder. Clad only in her running top and shorts, Morgan was steadily closing the distance between them.
Cassie struggled to free her foot from the vine. Finally, she disregarded the furrows the briars left in her skin, wrenched her foot free and plowed forward. The ground took a sudden downward turn, headed in a sharp decline toward the rock-bottomed stream. The leather soles of her shoes slid on an exposed patch of moist soil. Panic engulfed her as she struggled to control her sliding progress down the slope.
Before Cassie could get halfway to the stream, Morgan drew close in behind her. She launched herself in a forward dive, arms outstretched before her. Her right shoulder slammed into Cassie's back. Morgan wrapped her right arm around the taller woman's neck as they both plummeted down the hill. The impact caused Cassie to lose the rifle she carried and caused Morgan to lose her grip on Cassie. The force of the tackle sent them both tumbling down the hill.
Morgan succeeded in stopping her downward momentum and scrambled to her feet. She scrutinized the tall auburn-haired woman as Cassie struggled to rise. When at last Cassie righted herself, she faced Morgan, her chest heaving.
An inferno of rage blazed as Morgan looked from the woman to the rifle lying a few feet away. She never took her eyes from the woman's face as she bent over to retrieve the weapon. “You killed my dog, you bitch!” She bore down on Cassie with a menacing look in her eyes.
Cassie watched Morgan carefully, trying to estimate her. She was at least five or so inches shorter and considerably lighter. Cassie quickly decided that in a one-on-one she could mop the floor with the Alexander woman.
I don't know why Victor's so hot about her anyway. She vainly thought as she studied Morgan. Being an utterly conceited woman, Cassie had never seen another woman she felt could compete with herself.
“Get out of my way, you puny bitch!”
“Out of your way?” Morgan took a step closer. “I'd rather kick your sorry ass.”
“Yeah, right.” Cassie laughed, secure in her superiority. “You and whose army, shrimp?”
In what she thought was one of her most impressive moves, Cassie delivered a right sidekick in the direction of Morgan's face. Morgan was prepared for the attack. The far less than subtle shift of weight onto the back leg, combined with the preparatory turn of the left toes outward, and the angling of the body told her as clear as a picture what the woman meant to do.
She tossed the rifle out of the way. In a calm, relaxed stance, she watched the oncoming blow. A split second before the kick could make contact she twisted slightly to her left, letting the kick pass by her.
Cassie's own momentum carried her forward. She landed hard and off balance. She’d just turned when Morgan unleashed a vicious spinning back kick that caught her squarely in the middle of the chest. The force of the blow drove her up off her feet. Her legs flailed wildly and then she slammed down on her back, sliding further down the stream bank.
Winded, Cassie sat up slowly and crawled into a squatting position. H
er short skirt was ripped and muddy, as was her once cream-colored pullover. She pretended to be more incapacitated than she was and placed her hands on the ground in front of her as if to support herself. Sure that she had Morgan off guard, she flung herself forward, intending to tackle Morgan at leg level and throw her to the ground. Unfortunately, her plan went awry.
Morgan simply stepped to one side as Cassie threw herself forward and landed painfully face-down in the mud. Enraged, Cassie pulled herself up and swiped at the mud that caked her face.
“You little bitch!” She spat mud from her mouth. “I'm going to kill you!” Then, with a venomous smile, she added, “then I'll have Cord all to myself.”
At the mention of Cord's name, Morgan's eyes flew open wide. “What do you mean? How do you know my husband?”
“Oh, yes, I forgot,” Cassie tossed her mud-encrusted hair out of her face and climbed to her feet. “He hasn't gotten around to telling you about us yet, has he?”
She enjoyed the look of shock taking form on Morgan's face and continued in a taunting voice. “Cord and I are lovers, we have been for years. He was planning on telling you that he's leaving. It seems you're just not enough woman for him, Morgan. Time for him to move on, to the woman he really loves.”
“You're lying!” Morgan's fists clenched at her sides. “Cord would never betray me.”
“Oh, that's what you'd like to believe. Face it, Morgan. He doesn't love you. He hasn't for a long time. He just didn't know how to tell you that he’s sick to death of you. It's me he wants.”
“Liar!”
Cassie laughed at the pain in Morgan's eyes. “You have no idea how many times we’ve been in each other's arms, laughing at you. Planning our future and talking about how wonderful it will be when he’s finally rid of you.”
Morgan lost it. “Enough!” She closed in on Cassie, and her hands lashed out in rapid succession. A straight right caught Cassie in the mouth, splitting her bottom lip. Rigid straightened fingers jabbed deeply into the middle of Cassie's body, boring into her diaphragm to send her bowing forward, harshly gasping for air. Just as Cassie's head bent forward, the third blow struck home.
Morgan's fist connected soundly underneath Cassie's chin. The cracking sound of the blow was accompanied by Morgan's scream of rage.
Cassie's head flew back from the force of the kick, quickly followed by her body. Down she went, rolling toward the stream. Morgan followed quickly. She bent over the fallen woman, who lay face up on the ground, wrapped her hand in the long muddy hair and yanked the woman upward. The moment she had Cassie on her feet, she unleashed a furious roundhouse punch, catching her again in her already swollen and bloody mouth. Cassie plunged backward, turning in midair to land with an enormous splash in the knee-deep stream.
Cassie barely managed to raise her head out of the water. Her dripping mud-caked hair was plastered to the sides and front of her face, obscuring her vision. Before she had a chance to push it back out of the way, Morgan was on her. She grabbed handfuls of the mucky hair, and shoved Cassie’s head underneath the water, putting one knee in the middle of Cassie’s back to hold her down.
Cassie fought frantically to get her head above water level, now seriously fearing for her life. Morgan's iron grip held her fast in place. She was quickly running out of air. My God! She's going to kill me!
Just then Morgan snatched Cassie's head up and moved away. At length, Cassie managed to push herself up. She panted and cast a worried look at Morgan.
The bottom of Morgan's shoe made solid contact with the center of Cassie's chest. Cassie flopped backward, landing with a smacking splash in the water.
“That's for saying you fucked my husband!” Morgan waded over to Cassie and grabbed her by the front of her shirt. “And this is for killing my dog!”
The last thing Cassie saw before everything went black was Morgan's fist shooting down toward her face.
*****
Samuels parked his car behind the surveillance van, out of sight of the road. He rapped on the rear door of the van and looked around as he waited to be admitted. The door opened, and he climbed in.
“Got anything?” he asked as he closed the door.
“Not much activity last night,” the younger agent answered as he handed the log sheet to Samuels. “About midnight she went to bed.”
“And this morning?” Samuels scanned the report on the clipboard.
“She got a call from her husband. Said she had been out for a run and that she missed him. Then he said he wanted her to go to his office and turn on, now get this, turn on Juan's computer. He didn't explain why. Interesting, huh? Anyway, then they talked about missing each other, and he said he'd call her later. It's all on the audio file. I’ve got it ready if you want to listen to it. After the phone conversation, she was talking to someone about going to check something out, but I couldn't figure out who she was talking to.”
“Is someone there with her?”
“Beats the hell outta me. If there is, I didn't hear them come in.”
“Okay.” Samuels sat down before the console and adjusted the earphones on his head. “Take my car if you want.”
“Nah.” The young man picked up a motorcycle helmet off the floor of the van. “My bike's stashed outside.”
“Suit yourself.” Samuels shrugged and turned his attention back to the console. He looked up momentarily as he adjusted the levels to clean up a little static. “See you tonight.”
Andrews, Texas
Alone in an office that was separated from the central control room of the facility by a thick glass wall, Cord turned on the monitor and logged into the system. He entered his password, bypassed the menu, and went straight into the programs. He became immersed in the logic and went through every routine, checking its validity. He sat glued to the monitor for hours. By noon, he was tired and frustrated.
Could I just not be seeing it? After fruitless hours of examination, he was beginning to doubt himself.
No. The system is sound. No bugs, malware or viruses. There has to be something else.
He turned his attention away from the monitor and the stack of software printouts. From his briefcase, he pulled the map he had produced on his computer at home. He placed the map on the table behind him then rifled through his case in search of a mint. When he found the small plastic container, he shook a couple into his hand, popped them into his mouth then closed and locked his briefcase. He turned back to the table for the map but couldn’t find it. It had slipped from the table onto the floor.
As he moved to pick it up, he clumsily stepped on the clean white paper and smudged it with his footprint. He leaned over and pulled the map from beneath his foot. As he started to straighten up, a voice from the doorway startled him, almost causing him to topple forward out of his chair.
“Mr. Alexander, you have a call on line two.”
Cord looked up and acknowledged the man with a slight wave. “Okay, thanks.”
Maybe it's Morgan, he thought as he picked up the phone and punched the flashing button. “Hello.”
“Well, have you found anything?” Tom's growling voice came over the line.
“No, not yet. You'll just have to be patient. This stuff takes time. I'll call you when I find something.”
He picked up the map in his free hand as he talked and looked at the page with the soiled impression of his foot stamped on it.
“Footprints!” His mind raced as he considered the possibilities. “The satellite's footprints! That has to be it! If they could avoid the range of the satellite—”
“What?” Tom's befuddled question blared through the receiver.
“Look, Tom, I've got to go. I think I may be onto something. I'll let you know.”
Without giving Tom a chance to question him further, he hung up the phone. He grabbed his briefcase, raced down the corridor into the satellite control room and settled in front of one of the empty keyboards. His fingers danced a curious jig and images burst forth onto the screen in r
apid-fire. Cord scanned over the flickering images, pausing only long enough to make a mental note of them.
That's it! He sighed and pushed back from the final image that burned brightly on the monitor's face. That's the how of it. Now the only question is who. A look of deep concern took control of his features as his mind explored all the possibilities.
He rubbed his throbbing temples as he reached the only logical conclusion. “Juan.”
Chapter Eleven
Cotton Creek, Texas
Morgan dragged Cassie to the bank of the stream and dumped her unceremoniously on the muddy soil. After a quick check to make sure she was only unconscious and in no danger, she left Cassie and began to explore around.
She was headed for the stream. Morgan looked around for some clue as to what the woman was after. A few yards down, the stream narrowed enough to jump across easily. There were impressions in the damp clay. Someone had crossed there recently.
Morgan leapt the narrow expanse and made her way up the steep embankment. The trees thinned considerably, making it easy to spot the sports utility vehicle parked alongside an old logging road, partially hidden in a stand of trees. She took a quick look around to make sure she was alone, then sprinted to the parked vehicle and looked inside. The keys were in the ignition, and a wine-colored briefcase lay on the front passenger seat.
She opened the door, reached in, pulled the briefcase to the driver's seat and popped open the clasps. The briefcase was empty except for a thumb drive with a handprinted label. “CORD A.”
Cord?
