The Assassin's Wife

by Roger Weston

  They could go no further due to the river now running from wall to wall, and Meg was amazed to see a handcrafted boat. The boat had to have been built down here because it could not have been carried through the narrow parts of the cave before arriving at the river.

  They got in and Russell rowed downstream. The cave was now fifty feet across, and the boat rocked in a gentle current. White fish scattered at the splash of the oar. At times the water boiled beneath them.

  Russell heaved on the oars for fifteen minutes as they passed isolated, sandy beaches.

  Meg held onto Lomax’s thick arm and rested her head against his shoulder.

  Finally, the cave widened again to over a hundred feet across from one rock wall to another. Russell ran the boat up on the beach and they got out. Another ten minute hike brought them to a massive underground gallery.

  The ceiling was hundreds of feet high, and at the top, natural light poured in through a number of small holes in the stone roof. The light played against natural crystal in the cave walls, creating prisms of colored light that were projected across the entire gallery from floor to ceiling. It was a beautiful, natural wonder. Beside the river was a flat area, fifty-feet across.

  Someone had set up odd-shaped boulders as chairs and a table, on which was a checkerboard, which had evidently been abandoned during an unfinished game. Standing by the stone table was a poster-sized collage resting on an artist’s easel. The collage was entirely full of pictures of Meg and Eric. There was Meg at a reception after a play at the university. There was her and Eric at a restaurant, smiling and having a nice meal. There was Eric at Dillinger’s lodge.

  Lomax chuckled uncomfortably. “Looks like Dillinger was a lonely man.”

  Meg could hardly speak. Her eyes clung to a picture in the middle of the collage. It was the same picture of her and Eric that she had found in her bathroom the day after Eric was killed.

  A snapping sound behind Meg caused her to scream. She whirled around, but it was just a white fish that had jumped out of the water and landed on the rock. It flipped on the rock a few times and then splashed back into the water.

  Lomax grabbed Meg’s arm. “It’s okay.”

  “Yeah, just the fish…” She pointed at the water.

  Then suddenly, a growling sound made her change her mind. She turned and saw the huge chests of two vicious animals emerge.

  Lomax looked back toward the boat. “Russell?”

  Two black-and-white pit bulls eased closer, their shoulders bulging. The larger of the two showed his teeth and came within ten feet. The smaller moved off to the side as if they were setting up for a coordinated attack. Both of them had their eyes fixated on the throats of Meg and John.

  A shrill whistle pierced the stillness of the gallery. The two dogs broke into a run and went to Russell, wagging their tails as he pet them.

  Lomax shook his head in anger. “I guess your father-in-law had some company after all.”

  Meg breathed as if she was in a Lamaze class. “I guess that’s why he ….” Meg trailed off and pointed. On the ground by the cave wall, a pile of something was covered by a blue tarp.

  She hurried over there with Lomax right behind her. She kneeled down and tossed away a couple of boulders from the edges of the tarp. She pulled away the whole tarp and shoved it to the side, revealing four wood boxes similar to the one Eric had given her on the night of his death.

  Russell joined them, the two pit bulls at his sides with tails wagging like puppies.

  Meg opened the box closest to her and found a pile of documents. She sat down and leaned her back against the cave wall as she skimmed the papers. The first thing she found was a graveyard map showing the final resting places of over a dozen illegal shipments of nuclear waste—some in the ocean, others on public land. When she handed this to Lomax, Russell took the dogs and walked toward the boat.

  “Be careful,” Meg said.

  Lomax sat down next to her and continued reading in the lantern light.

  Meg was astounded at the evidence that Dillinger had assembled. Evidently his contacts included some in the intelligence community. He had compiled a list of DNA signatures of the radioactive materials of each waste dump on his map, and these could ultimately be traced to verifiable points of origin; a couple of these points of origin were already known and listed—nuclear power plants in Tennessee and Italy. Five domestic dumps were indicated, and the others were marked with GPS positions in the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans. In manila envelopes, she found a paper trail that linked Harding Corp. to Environmental Solutions, founding corporate documents linking Environmental Solutions to the president, and even documents showing the president as a majority shareholder in Environmental Solutions. Financial records showed Environmental Solution’s huge profits, running over a billion a year for the past three years.

  Meg gestured toward the third wood box. “We haven’t even looked in that one yet.”

  “We better do it now,” Lomax said. “We need to get moving.”

  Meg leaned over and dragged the box closer. Opening it, she found yet another map, this one indicating several locations around Hells Canyon. A map key explained what could be found at each location—actual samples of nuclear waste taken from illegal waste dumps in the U.S. Also included in the treasure trove were DNA signatures of these samples and verified points of origin.

  “This is all we need for now,” Meg said, holding the maps and the DNA signatures.

  “Wait a minute. What’s that?” Lomax pointed at a steel cylinder in a plastic bag. Meg broke the seal, removing both the cylinder and the typed letter in the bag. She read the note.

  This steel cylinder has a substance mixed into it called molybdenum—or Molly. Molly is a kind of steel with such a high melting point that it is used to store radioactive waste. The samples stashed around the canyon are in identical tubes. The melting point of Molly is 2623 degrees Celsius.

  Meg wiped the back of her wrist across her cheek.

  “Meg, what is it?”

  Meg could hardly speak. She ran back to the collage that she saw next to the table. She looked again at the picture in the middle of the collage.

  “That picture. After Eric was killed, I returned to my house. That same picture was in the bathroom. Someone had broken into the house and put it there. It must’ve been Dillinger.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “He was telling the truth. I should have listened to him.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Meg looked down. She pointed at the bottom of the picture. She was standing above a street address painted on the curb. “Look.”

  Lomax said, “Twenty-six, twenty-three. So what?”

  “That’s the melting point of molybdenum.”

  “Molly, what?”

  “It must have been Dillinger who called when we were up at the cabin that night. He did try to warn Eric. That’s why he left the photo in our house. Eric would’ve known what that meant.” Meg shook her head. She removed the photo from the collage and looked at it with tears in her eyes. “If only I hadn’t insisted on staying another night. If only we left when he wanted to, Eric would still be alive.”

  “Let it go, Meg. You had no way to know.” Lomax pulled her close and held her. She cried for a couple of minutes. Finally, she pulled away from him and put the photo in her pocket.

  “We have to hurry,” Meg said. “Until we get out of this canyon, none of this evidence matters.”

  CHAPTER 71

  When they left the cave, the light outside on the banks of the Snake River was blinding. Hot wind rushed through the deep canyon. The heat was intense and felt good as far as Meg was concerned. She was glad to be out of that cave. She had all the information she needed and could end this mad search.

  Now she really would be able to put this all behind her. Once the president was dealt with and off her back, Meg would try to melt into some small community and resume teaching. Maybe she would return to drama again, n
ot the kind of drama she’d been living, but pure make-believe. One thing was for sure, she would never marry again. To marry required too much trust.

  Meg breathed deeply of the clean air, and she listened with the fascination of a small child to the cry of eagles soaring overhead.

  She realized that for the first time in a week she felt true hope. It was possible she would get out of this alive. She walked along the game trail on the steep grassy hillside as if on a fresh breeze to the boat.

  It took twenty minutes to back the jet boat out of the narrow gorge. They were almost to the main run of the Snake when Meg heard a pounding sound. She tapped Russell on the shoulder and gestured for him to stop the boat. They waited for around thirty seconds. Meg was looking straight up between the pinching cliff walls of the gorge when two helicopters flashed across the opening overhead. Meg, Lomax, and Russell were silent for a minute, listening. The chopper noise faded.

  “Looks like they haven’t given up,” Lomax said.

  Meg gestured for Russell to back the boat into the main river. She sat down and held an assault rifle on her lap.

  As they ran the river, Meg was more determined than ever to get out of Hells Canyon alive.

  As they rounded a bend Meg saw a small plane swoop by. She tightened the grip on her rifle and was about to shoot when she saw two kids in the back waving at her. She took a deep breath. Looked like a family flying in to float this horrendous river. She hoped they didn’t cross paths with her pursuers. She sat back and scanned the sky again. With her hands she signed for Russell—gestures of a plane swooping low. He nodded his head and pointed down river.

  Half an hour later, Russell pointed to a dock. Meg steered the boat alongside, and the men tied the lines.

  “Let it go,” Meg said.

  Lomax looked at her with surprise, but then gestured for Russell to throw off the bow line while he got the stern. Russell pushed the boat and watched as it drifted away from the dock and fell into the current. They stood there in reverence as a wide swath of river opened up between them and the boat.

  There were several cars parked by trail heads. Russell drew a map to the remote airstrip and simply pointed down the dirt road.

  “How far?” Meg said. She used her hands to indicate distance.

  Russell showed her two fingers close together, then turned and started walking down river.

  “Aren’t you coming with us?” Meg asked.

  Meg already knew the answer to her question. Knowing that he couldn’t hear her she mouthed “Thank you” to his back.

  Lomax headed down the dirt road and Meg followed. After walking for about a mile they found two planes alongside a dirt airstrip. Meg broke out the backseat window of one of the planes with a rock and hot-wired it in less than five minutes.

  CHAPTER 72

  Lomax taxied the Cessna out onto the runway and took off. Once they were in the air, Meg sunk down into the seat and relaxed, thankful that she had finally eluded her enemies and reached safety. After they’d been in the air about ten minutes, one of the engines stalled. It lurched back into action and then stalled again. The third time it didn’t come back at all.

  “What’s happening?” Meg said. Terror filled her once more.

  “We’re running out of gas.” Lomax tapped on the fuel gauge. “I forgot to do my pre-flight checklist.”

  “You what?”

  “Look, I was shot at half the night. I never thought I’d live long enough to die in a plane wreck.”

  At this point, the other engine coughed and stalled.

  Meg gasped and leaned back in her seat. “What now?”

  “I see the highway up ahead. I should be able to make an emergency landing.”

  “You can do this, right?”

  “I should be able to.”

  “Should? What do you mean should?”

  “Let me concentrate.”

  They had soared over the highway for a few minutes when Meg pointed. “What’s that?”

  “Looks like a weigh station for commercial trucks. I’ll circle around. That might be a good place to end up.”

  As they glided in for the landing on the highway, Meg looked over and made eye contact with a lady two lanes over. The woman’s eyes opened wide, her head tilted back, and her lip curled up toward her flared nostril.

  Lomax managed a smooth landing, and no sooner were the wheels on the ground when he exited the highway and coasted into a truck stop.

  CHAPTER 73

  Scooter Brown was eating a burrito in the cab of his eighteen wheeler when he saw something he’d never seen in twenty-one years on the road. A private plane was rolling into the weigh station. This unexpected event amazed him, but what blew his mind was what happened next. After the plane stopped, two people got out—and Scooter recognized one of them. He knew the face because he had passed at least three electronic billboards that were flashing her profile. It was Meg Coles, the fugitive. Number one on the F.B.I’s Most Wanted List.

  Scooter put down his half-eaten burrito and picked up his CB radio.

  CHAPTER 74

  Marcel was on the ground when he got the call. It was the call he had been waiting for.

  “We’ve located Meg Coles.”

  Marcel threw his coffee onto the ground and stood up straighter. “Where?”

  “We were monitoring various radio frequencies and picked up some trucking chatter on the CB channel. A trucker was bragging up a storm that Meg Coles arrived at a truck stop—in a private plane. Evidently, her and her male accomplice just drove the plane into the truck stop, parked, and got out as if there was nothing unusual about it. Last thing the trucker said is that he was going to try and strike up a conversation.”

  “Okay, so the guy was a clown. What else?”

  “We had a team in the area and rushed them to the scene. As they arrived, they witnessed Meg and her accomplice get into the eighteen-wheeler with the driver. They pulled a gun on the driver and hijacked his truck.”

  “And our boys have contact, right? They did maintain contact.”

  “Yes, sir. They’re following from a distance and waiting for instructions. The Mack truck is pulling a flatbed trailer with a jet wing on it.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Just passed Exit 72.”

  “Excellent, they’re headed in my direction. I want a semi ready for me at Exit 89. Now! Send four cars for back-up too. Pass it on. No restraint.”

  “Copy. Will do.”

  CHAPTER 75

  12:01 p.m.

  Marcel and Jose sat in a white Oldsmobile on the overpass of Exit 89. A car with a driver and three shooters was behind them. Marcel got his auto-pistol from the sports bag on the floor. He instructed Jose to get in the idling semi and pursue Meg until he ran her off the road. Marcel watched as Jose crutched over there and climbed in the driver’s seat of the semi. He was glad it was Jose’s left leg that broke in the crash. He knew the man wouldn’t have any problem handling the truck. Better Jose than him, better he did the dirty work. He was glad he had saved his life after all. Just for this moment. Now Jose would be the one to get his hands dirty...they were too soft anyways. Marcel locked up his car and walked over to a black pick up that was sitting on the on-ramp. He put the car in gear and started driving. Once on the highway, he accelerated up to ninety miles per hour, following Jose’s lead. He figured they should be able to catch up within a few minutes.

  CHAPTER 76

  With the Mack truck cruising down the highway at seventy-five, Meg realized that Lomax was right. It was time to forgive and forget. Now, maybe she really could be free. She had everything she needed to implicate the president. Once she took care of that little matter, all she needed to do was lay low until it all blew over. Meg was ready to leave this all behind and disappear into a quiet little community. Her entire soul was committed, and she was desperate to forgive and forget. She closed her eyes and tried to rest. She started to tremble as all the adrenaline from the last week began to fade.
/>
  Meg was jolted out of her trance by a loud crash.

  She sat up and saw tight lines crossing Lomax’s face. His jaw was clenched tightly, causing his jawbone to protrude. His eyes were wild as the Kenworth tractor-trailer in the next lane swerved over and slammed into Meg and Lomax’s rig for the second time.

  The two tractor-trailers locked together and parted to the sounds of tearing metal. Lomax held the wheel with both hands. Vibrations shuttered through the front end. Lomax poured on all the diesel he could, and the Mack truck eased forward, almost coming even with the Kenworth. The other truck started to swerve, but hesitated. Lomax continued to push the big diesel engine for all it could give. As they came up even with the cab of the Kenworth, the driver looked at Meg. Suddenly he raised a pistol and pointed it at her.

  Meg grabbed her pistol and got off the first shot, and glass rained from the Kenworth’s window frame. The lunatic answered with four shots of his own, all of which passed though the cab in front of Meg and exited through the window. Meg found herself with a lapful of glass shards.

  Lomax leaned hard on the steering wheel and rammed the other truck. Came hideous sounds of crunching, tearing metal, and Lomax pushed the Kenworth toward the shoulder. The other driver sank into his brakes, and the big truck fell out of view. Meg heard the violent sounds of their flatbed scraping the Kenworth. Meg checked her rear-view mirror and saw the other truck at least thirty yards behind them now. That should have been a relief, but it wasn’t. Three black roadsters were rocketing up behind them. At two hundred yards, a man rose out of the car’s sunroof and fired several shots at the back of the Mack’s cab. Lomax swerved, and Meg ducked.