Night Shade

by Bianca D’Arc

  She would leave only enough to be certain to lead Matt Sykes and his team to a much bigger fish than she appeared to be. With any luck, that would distract the hunters long enough for her to make a clean getaway.

  Satisfied by her quick work, Bev felt the vibration at her waist that alerted her to an incoming text message. Checking the screen quickly, she smiled in grim satisfaction. Her contact had come through again. She picked up the bag of things she’d take with her and headed out the door. She was never coming back here again, but she felt no remorse or sadness. She had done her job and would be richly rewarded, no matter the colossal screwup Rodriguez had committed. He’d always been a little unhinged in her opinion. All the parties involved knew he’d been a weak link, so there was no surprise that he’d gotten himself captured.

  They’d prepared for exactly that contingency, which was one of the main reasons Beverly had been put in place. Now it was time to activate the plan. It was also time for her to go. She wouldn’t miss the base or the people. She had bigger fish to fry—and a plane to catch.

  *

  A small team prepared to storm Bev’s bedroom. She was bunking in the BOQ—the bachelor officers’ quarters—on base, so all she had was one room to call her own. Sarah and Xavier were to accompany Matt inside the room. Sam was watching outside the room’s only window. Matt had recalled Sarah from the farmhouse for just this purpose. Her skills as a former cop would be more useful here for the time being. When they were all in position, Matt counted them down.

  “On three,” he whispered, following through with the rest of the countdown before springing into action.

  Matt went first, kicking in the door. Xavier followed with Sarah hot on his heels. After checking the closet and under the bed, Matt crossed the empty room to the window. Sam was outside in the bushes, out of sight.

  “She’s not here,” Matt told Sam over the radio. They were using a separate frequency for this small-scale op. “Stand watch.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Sam melted back into the predawn shadows to watch and guard.

  Sarah and Xavier were already busy methodically searching the small room. This wouldn’t take long.

  “What do you think?” Matt asked them both.

  “She’s not coming back,” Sarah said with disgust lacing her tone.

  “What makes you say that?” Xavier challenged. “Her clothes and toiletries are still here. Doesn’t look like she took much. If she’d planned to leave for good, wouldn’t she have taken more of her stuff with her?”

  “None of this stuff is expensive or irreplaceable. Common, cheap brands of makeup and personal care items. Uniform clothing. Even the few sets of civilian clothes are cheap and easily replaceable. Nothing personal—no family photos, trinkets, letters.” She ticked off the points of evidence on her fingers, then gestured to the room in general. “Nothing personal was left behind. If she had any of those things to begin with, they were most likely in her purse, which is missing. She traveled light. At most she has maybe one bag with her. Probably a change of clothes and whatever important trinkets and papers she might’ve had with her. We probably won’t find any clues in what’s left here. Except for her fingerprints, which we already have and aren’t much use anyway; the place looks to me like it’s been sanitized. I’d lay odds Bev is gone for good.”

  Matt glanced at Xavier with one eyebrow raised in question. Xavier shrugged in apparent agreement.

  “Sounds reasonable.”

  “All right.” Matt was not just disappointed. He was pissed. “I want to know how she knew to get out of Dodge. You two stay here and do a thorough search. Maybe she missed something when she vacated. I’m going to my old office to search there. I’ll take Sam with me. I still don’t want anyone on the team going anywhere outside our secure building alone, so you two need to stick together and check in with the comm officer every fifteen minutes.”

  “Yes, sir. We’re happy to oblige,” Xavier drawled, his words thickly accented.

  Xavier’s smile was aimed at Sarah, and for the first time Matt didn’t envy the couple. He had his own fiancée now. He was no longer on the outside looking in.

  Matt left the two lovers to their search of the room. Sam met him outside, and together they walked rapidly toward his old office. He hadn’t used the place in a while. Not since moving into the older, more secure building. It had only been a day or two, but it felt like years. So much had happened since he’d made the decision to pull the plug on Beverly’s spying and move the team into one central location. He’d left Bev behind, ostensibly to hold down the fort, but he’d really devised the plan as a neat way to push her out of the loop and away from his daily activities.

  It had worked, neat as a pin. Even better, she couldn’t complain because he’d left her in charge of the office. An empty office. Matt had the last laugh on that one, at least, even if it looked like Bev had gotten him back by skipping town in the dead of night without a trace.

  He entered the office cautiously, using his key. The place was deserted, as he’d expected.

  What he didn’t expect was the neatly written letter waiting for him on top of a stack of folders on Bev’s desk. He took a quick survey of the office before returning to the intriguing letter. Cautiously, he picked it up.

  Congratulations, commander, the note read. You win.

  “Cryptic,” Matt commented, handing the slip of paper to Sam.

  “Short and sweet, too. From Bev?” Sam asked.

  “It looks like her handwriting,” Matt confirmed.

  “What did she leave for you?” Sam pointed to the desk.

  Matt paused to glance at the files that had been stacked under the note. Opening them one by one, he scanned the contents. They contained some of his preliminary research on the zombie attacks at Fort Bragg and elsewhere. He hadn’t seen these files in a while, and it looked to him like Bev had done some work on them. She’d highlighted certain passages and drawn a maze of arrows and circles in bright colors on a few of the pages in each file.

  She’d also added annotations, drawing seemingly unrelated events together in a way Matt hadn’t anticipated. She’d laid out patterns in the data he hadn’t seen before and would not have known to look for. They were too subtle. Perhaps in time he would’ve made the connections, but he admitted he hadn’t had enough of the common factors previously to connect these particular dots.

  “Looks like she drew you a map,” Sam commented, nodding at one of the folders Matt had left open on the desk as he looked at the one beneath it.

  “More than you know, Sam,” Matt said absently as he continued to read.

  One exchange in particular drew his attention. Admiral Chester had issued orders for the personnel change that inserted Bev into Matt’s office, and shortly thereafter Tim had died, turned into a zombie.

  Bev had circled the date and time stamp on the orders. Either accidentally or deliberately—and Matt now believed it was the latter considering the way she had left and the evidence she’d left behind—the orders were dated after Bev’s arrival on base. Add to that her personal cell phone records, which she must have added to the file…now they were interesting. The records indicated Beverly had called Admiral Chester at home shortly before the orders were faxed through to Matt’s office from Chester’s home fax machine. Voilà. Just like that, a conspiracy was born.

  Bev had given him probable cause to investigate Admiral Chester. All wrapped up in shiny fax paper and tied with a bow.

  *

  Beverly Bartles didn’t look back as she boarded the small charter plane in the early hours before dawn. The flight crew consisted of only one pilot. Nobody else. He didn’t even glance at her as she boarded. He simply closed the cabin door behind her and then shut himself inside the cockpit.

  A moment later, she heard the engines rev in preparation for departure. The small jet rolled away from the hangar and onto the tarmac. Minutes later, it was airborne.

  Beverly felt her fear of capture slough away with each
mile, each moment that passed. She’d made her getaway. Her secrets were safe. She’d given Matt Sykes enough to keep him busy and his attention focused elsewhere. An admiral was a much bigger fish than a mere ensign, after all. Too bad Sykes didn’t realize the admiral was only a small player in a much bigger game.

  She smiled with smug satisfaction as she poured herself a finger of expensive bourbon and settled back into the luxurious leather seat. These private jets were comfy. When she got her cut of the money, maybe she would buy one of her own. She would be able to afford all sorts of luxuries once she had her share.

  Beverly settled into a light doze, dreaming of the easy life she would lead once this was all over. She felt safe enough for the moment to grab a little shut-eye.

  Twenty minutes later, she was fast asleep when the Praxis Air charter jet burst into a ball of flame. Tiny bits of debris rained down over a farmer’s field for a good five minutes. Very little was left of the jet, or its occupants.

  *

  “Is it done?” the voice on the phone asked.

  “It’s over.” The man in the office answered. “I’ve got to tell you, I don’t like this at all. You’re ruining my father’s company. This is the second jet I’ve destroyed for you. I’m going to have the NTSB crawling all over my ass in an hour. I won’t do it again. This is the last time.”

  “There’s no record of Bartles being on the jet, right?”

  “Of course not. Just the pilot. I made it look like he was returning the jet to our home base for repairs. Just a ferry flight to get the jet back here. I’m going to blame the crash on his poor judgment in thinking the jet was fit to fly. Pilot error.”

  “Tidy.” Satisfaction sounded in that voice.

  “That’s what you pay me for. But this is the last of my dad’s jets I’m losing. Understood?”

  “It would bring too much suspicion were we to destroy another one of your father’s toys, so you needn’t worry. I will, however, still require his planes to fly my potential buyers around. The sooner we cut the final deal, the sooner we both strike it rich.”

  “Charter flights are the bread and butter of this company. It won’t be a problem to fly your buyers around. You know that.”

  “Very well. I’ll leave you to your NTSB visit. I’ll be in touch in a few days. As soon as the furor dies down a bit.”

  The man in the office hung up the phone with a muffled curse. This was getting much more complicated than he’d bargained for. Sometimes he wished he’d never become involved with this whole mess, but the money was too tempting to turn down. He never thought he’d have to kill people or destroy two of his father’s prized jets, not to mention having to deal with the National Transportation Safety Board.

  If the old man would just loosen up on the reins and give him access to more cash, he never would have been put in this position. It was all the old man’s fault, really. Served him right he’d lost two jets over the deal. His stinginess with his own son had caused all this.

  The man, standing alone in the office, cursed again. Even if he’d wanted to get out now, he was in too deep. He’d killed. He’d falsified too many documents to recall. The only way out now was success. They’d sell the technology to the highest bidder, and his cut would set him up for life. He could buy the island he had his eye on and retire there with any number of beautiful women who liked expensive living. He didn’t have to limit himself to just one female companion. He could have as many as he liked whenever he wanted them. However he wanted them.

  The old man’s disapproving gaze would never land on him again. He’d finally be free, with his own money. He’d never again face the threat of being cut off without a cent. He’d be his own man. Finally. And for good.

  It was a heady thought. A smile graced his lips as he dreamed of the freedom all that cash would buy him. That was what made all this worthwhile. Freedom from his over-bearing, judgmental, stingy father was the goal that would help him put up with all the questions and investigations. All the disapproval he’d face from the old man and the suspicions of the NTSB.

  He just had to keep his eyes on the prize—an island of his own with a bevy of beauties at his beck and call. Yeah, that’s what kept him going. That, and all the money he could ever hope to spend.

  *

  John circled Dr. Rodriguez. He was sitting behind a table in an empty conference room. A video camera taped the entire interrogation for future reference. Matt sat across the table, watching Rodriguez squirm under John’s masterful interrogation.

  “We know Ensign Bartles was feeding you information,” John informed him.

  Rodriguez refused to speak. He merely drew invisible circles on the tabletop with his finger. Matt watched the man while John tried to elicit a response. So far, John hadn’t gotten him to say anything else. Since the failed attempt to escape in the woods, Rodriguez had clammed up.

  “We know about Admiral Chester. He’s already in custody.”

  Was that a flicker of response?

  “Chester isn’t talking yet,” John went on. “But he will. You know he will. He hasn’t got the balls to hold out very long. Especially if they offer him a deal for cooperating. He’ll sing like a choir boy and sell you down the river. You know it’s true.”

  “You’re lying. You haven’t got him.” Rodriguez’s hand fisted on the table.

  There. Now that was the kind of response they were aiming for. They were getting to him at last. Rodriguez was clearly angry.

  John was lying, of course. Chester was missing, too.

  “Sorry. It’s true.”

  John pulled out his smart phone and flashed a photo of Admiral Chester looking a lot worse for wear, sitting behind bars. Wolf was pretty good with Photoshop and had whipped up the image at John’s request.

  “How long do you think it’ll be before he tells us everything?” John holstered his phone and glanced at Matt. “We’ve got a bet going around the team. I’ve got him spilling what he knows around lunchtime.” John glanced at the clock. “Doesn’t give you a lot of time to get in on the deal before him. If you talk to us, they may go easier on you.”

  Matt noted the lack of anyone from the legal side of things. They hadn’t called anyone from the judge advocate general office—JAG. They wouldn’t let a civilian lawyer anywhere near this. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Knowledge of the contagion was something that had to be kept limited. It was beyond top secret. It fell into the world of the blackest of black ops. There would be no showy trial. No mixing with a general prison population for this man.

  No, Rodriguez was most likely going so deep in a hole that no one would ever see or hear from him again. He didn’t seem to realize it, and that gave them some leverage. For such a book-smart man, Rodriguez was sadly inept when it came to real-world living.

  Even now, the scientist was eyeing John as if he was on the verge of talking. Matt watched the telltale hand on the table. It remained clenched.

  A loud thump sounded as that beefy fist came down hard on the table. Frustrated anger showed on Rodriguez’s face. He’d cracked. Finally.

  “Chester was supposed to be on a charter flight out of Dulles Airport. I was to be on another from Fayetteville.”

  “Destination?” John prompted.

  “I don’t know. We were just supposed to board the planes, and the rest would be taken care of. We were to rendezvous all together to plan our next step.”

  “So there’s somebody else pulling your strings,” John mused aloud. “Who?”

  “Oh, no. I won’t give that up until I’m certain I have a deal. I want to talk to a lawyer.” Rodriguez’s hand unclenched, and he sat back in his chair, apparently at ease. He knew he’d just pulled the ace from his sleeve. He’d given up Chester, but there was an even bigger fish he could give them.

  Maybe the man wasn’t as inept as Matt had thought.

  “No lawyer, but I’ll arrange for you to speak to someone with the authority to give you the guarantees you’re looking for.” Matt spoke for the fir
st time during this interrogation. John stepped back as Rodriguez’s attention was redirected to Matt. “First though, I want details about the flight. Airline. Flight number. Everything you know about it.”

  Rodriguez seemed to consider his options, then sat forward in his chair again, resting both forearms on the table.

  “Praxis Air. Charter from Fayetteville airport. All I had to do was make a call when I felt the operation was in trouble and they’d pick me up anytime, day or night. It was all pre-arranged.” Rodriguez’s passive expression turned to one of disgust. “I called last night and was in the process of gathering my things when you showed up. I should’ve left earlier.”

  “Yes, you should have,” Matt agreed. He stood and nodded to John.

  John would handle the rest of the interrogation from here. Matt had to act on the information they’d just gotten. It was probably already too late, but they had to at least try to capture Admiral Chester at the airport. Matt would need help on this one. He flipped open his phone as he left the room and strode down the hall.

  Once the call was made and MPs from the Washington, D.C., area were on their way to arrest Admiral Chester at Dulles Airport—if he was still there—Matt made another call. This time, he needed Sarah. She was a former cop. Her skills would be needed in dealing with the Fayetteville airport.

  She would head the small team tasked with grounding the plane that had been arranged for Rodriguez. He wanted her to question the pilot. Unless that’s how Bev had gotten away. In which case, they had to find that plane ASAP.

  They also had to trace the arrangements that had been made to keep that charter flight open at Rodriguez’s beck and call. There had to be a paper trail on that somewhere. It was a lead that had to be acted on at once.