28
Cartersville, Georgia
Tara kept the Camaro a few miles per hour over the speed limit as she guided the car north on I-75. Every few minutes, she glanced in the rearview mirror to make sure they weren’t being followed. While there was no sign of danger lurking in the dense Atlanta traffic, she couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling they were being tailed. It was difficult to tell in the darkness, and Tara cursed the early evenings of fall and winter for the inconvenience.
“So, they sent federal agents to your headquarters again?” Desmond asked from the back seat.
“Technically, yes,” Alex answered, cursing himself for only delaying the answer from earlier.
“Technically?” Corin questioned.
“Well, they were probably legitimate FBI agents, but the fact that they showed up again, and this time were just barging right into the place, means that they weren’t going to take no for an answer, no matter who we called.”
“It also means there’s at least some level of corruption going on there,” Tara added. “Or the agents that were sent are working for someone else. It’s no coincidence that they came after all of us today, within such a tight time frame. That tells me they’re coordinating something. Whatever it is, it’s big. And it’s probably best if we sit this one out.”
“Sit it out?” Diego asked. “That doesn’t really sound like your style.”
Alex looked over his shoulder at Diego, disarming him with a grin. “I like you,” Alex said with a pointed finger. “And you’re right. It’s not like us to sit on the sidelines and watch, but it is like us to be on the sidelines with a headset on.”
“You mean like a coach?” Desmond asked.
“Or an offensive or defense coordinator?” Corin added.
Alex flicked his eyes from side to side. “Yes, just like that. Well, kind of.”
He received a deriding glare from his wife.
“I mean, obviously, we were not on the sidelines for the whole Bolivia thing. And it started out in Greece, so we do get out a bit.”
The three kids stared back at him with disbelief dripping from their eyes.
“Anyway,” Alex kept digging, “the point is, this time is different. We don’t know what we’re up against. And that whole thing with the Bolivia mission started out as just an ordinary investigation.”
Corin arched an eyebrow. “Nothing about what you two do is ‘ordinary,’” she said, using air quotes with the last word.
Alex pressed his lips together and accepted defeat as he turned around and faced forward. “My turn to drive yet?”
“No,” Tara laughed. “And we’re almost there.”
She flicked the blinker and merged onto the exit ramp.
“Do you think we could get something to eat?” Desmond asked sheepishly. “We missed dinner because of the goons at my house.”
Tara giggled and looked back at him in the mirror. “Goons? Where did you pick up that term?”
His shoulders lifted and dropped. “I don’t know. Picked it up, I guess.”
Alex faced her. “Joe and Helen should have some food at their place.”
“Yeah, but we’re still twenty minutes away,” Tara countered. “Besides, it doesn’t look like anyone is following us. Wouldn’t kill us to stop and grab them some burgers or something.”
“Considering the circumstances, I don’t know if I care for your choice of words,” he half-joked. “Okay,” he relented. “We’ll hit a drive-thru.”
Tara steered the car into the first burger joint on the right-hand side of the road. Fortunately, there were no other cars in line and they were able to get their food within minutes. She passed the bags to the back, warning the kids that if they dropped so much as a fragment of a French fry in the floor or on the seat, they would be in big trouble.
In truth, she had no intention of punishing them, but she also didn’t want to ruin what was a nearly mint-condition Camaro.
As Tara pulled back onto the road, she checked both ways, giving an extra look to the left and to the rear to make sure they weren’t being followed.
That’s when she noticed the problem.
In the sepia glow of the metal halide parking lot lights, a nondescript black Chevy Malibu pulled around the back of the drive-thru. It abruptly cut the wheels to the right and turned into an empty parking spot. Tara waited as traffic passed from the left, heading down the road in the direction they were going. She kept an eye on the mirror, watching the sedan. No one got out. And the car didn’t move. It just sat there with the lights on and engine running.
A chill snaked through her.
The last of the line of traffic passed, but she still kept her foot on the brake. Alex frowned at her. “You gonna go, or you waiting for an invitation?”
She swallowed and flashed a look back, an order for him to do the same. He caught the unspoken communication and did as instructed. When he saw the sedan, his spine stiffened, and he nodded.
“That was a good dad joke,” Diego chimed from the back.
“What?” Alex asked nervously.
Corin took a sip of apple juice from the box and giggled. “The joke about waiting for an invitation. That’s such a dad joke.”
“Oh, right,” Alex said.
Tara stepped on the gas and accelerated through the two lanes and back to the other side of the road, stopping at the white line.
“Um, where are we going?” Alex wondered.
“To Joe and Helen’s place,” Tara responded with wide eyes that told him to shut up.
“Oh, okay. I guess I forgot which direction we had to take to get to their house.” To his credit, Alex did a good enough job to cover his tracks. That, or the kids in the back were too busy scarfing down their meals.
The second Tara stepped on the brakes, she noticed the black sedan start to slowly back out of its parking spot.
She was about to step on the gas when the black Malibu accelerated out of the parking lot and turned right before rolling away down the road.
Tara puzzled at the occurrence while she turned left and crossed the bridge over the interstate. She did a U-turn at the next light and continued back in the correct direction toward Joe and Helen’s cabin.
Alex looked back in the mirror and noted the absence of the Malibu.
“I guess you lost them,” he encouraged.
“No,” Tara said. “It wasn’t anything after all. They pulled out and went right before I turned left.”
“Who?” Diego asked as he shoved a fistful of French fries into his mouth.
“No one,” the two in the front answered; suspiciously at the same time.
Diego assessed them both with skepticism and then went back to munching on his fries.
The twenty minutes it took to get from the exit to Joe and Helen’s cabin in the woods, felt like the longest minutes in history. Tara and Alex were both on edge for every second, constantly watching behind them in case they’d picked up a new tail.
As they continued on, the road narrowed to one lane on each side. The traffic thinned to only a scant few cars passing in the other direction and the occasional vehicle behind. Most of the latter ended up turning off the road when they reached their destinations. When the Camaro finally arrived at the gravel turnoff leading to the McElroy cabin, the nearest vehicle behind them was what she figured, based on the headlights, to be a pickup truck at least a thousand feet back.
Once Tara turned off the road and the car was concealed by the dense forest, she felt a little more at ease, and could tell Alex did as well. They visibly relaxed while Tara guided the Camaro down the long, winding driveway.
“What is this place?” Corin asked.
“You said you were taking us somewhere safe,” Desmond added. “You’re not taking us out to the middle of nowhere to leave us for dead, are you?”
Alex huffed a laugh. “No, but great movie reference. Classic.”
Desmond beamed proudly.
“Our friends Joe and Helen have
a cabin here. We should be safe. It’s a good spot to lie low until we can figure out how to get you back to your parents.”
Diego stared out at the darkening woods. The thick canopy overhead blotted out the stars in the clear night sky. “You think they’re worried about us?” he asked.
“Probably,” Desmond confirmed.
He sounded matter-of-fact, almost unconcerned, but Diego knew better. None of them wanted their parents to worry about their well-being. He had a sixth sense for that kind of thing. He’d heard of people who could feel the pain of others. He imagined his parents were sick over his and Corin’s disappearance. Diego set his jaw and resolved to himself that, while his mother and stepdad were probably freaking out at the moment, the decision to go with Tara and Alex was the right one. For all he knew, there were agents at his house too. That last thought sobered him even more, and he had to fight not to panic about his own parents being interrogated.
Lights blinked in and out through the trees, distracting Diego from his paranoia. He and the others looked out through the windows at the cabin as the car looped around the last curve and entered the clearing.
A man and woman stood on the porch watching the Camaro approach. The man wore a flannel shirt. His thick, bushy brown beard and matching hair made him look like the Brawny paper towel guy. The woman, with shoulder-length auburn hair, an overcoat, and jeans with work boots, looked like she had just come in from a day on the farm, or hunting in the woods.
They both smiled welcomingly as Tara stopped the car and killed the growling engine.
She and Alex opened their doors and pulled the seats forward to let the children out of the back.
“Hey, guys,” the woman greeted warmly. “Y’all come on in out of the cold.”
“You really did bring three kids with you,” Joe said. There was a hint of disbelief in his voice.
“Did you think we were kidding?” Alex chirped.
“No. I suppose not.” Joe turned his attention to the three kids. Each clutched a brown paper bag from the burger place in one hand. “You know, we could have fed them here. You didn’t have to get them fast food.”
“I didn’t want to impose,” Tara admitted.
“That’s mighty nice of you,” Helen said. “But you’re never imposing, Tara. You know better than that. Now, don’t make me tell y’all twice. Get on inside and get warmed up by the fire.”
The three kids were struck at the same time by the scent of the wood fire burning in the hearth as smoke from the chimney drifted down and around the cabin before seeping into the woods to linger like a morning fog.
The group followed the couple inside and hung their coats on a rack next to the door. Helen stood momentarily by the fire and then stepped aside, inviting the kids to warm themselves by the hearth.
“I have some water on to boil to make hot chocolate if you guys want some,” she said. All three kids nodded. So did Alex.
“My name is Helen McElroy,” their hostess said. She motioned to the door where her husband stood locking the deadbolt. “This here is Joe, but everyone calls him Mack.”
“Why do they call you—” Desmond cut himself off before he finished. “Oh, McElroy. Got it.”
Mack nodded at him. “You got it.”
Helen made her way into the kitchen just in time to snag the kettle before it started whistling.
“Thanks for letting us hang out for a while,” Tara said to Mack. “We really appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it,” Mack replied. “You’re more than welcome, and we’re happy to help.” He hung his coat on the rack with the others. The brass fixture looked like it was about to collapse under the weight of all the outerwear. “So, tell me. What happened that got y’all so spooked?”
He ambled into the living room and plopped down on a leather chair, crossed one leg over his knee, and picked up a coffee mug with steam pluming out of it.
Alex took a seat on the matching leather couch. Tara joined him in the middle position.
“Several months ago, a bunch of agents came into the IAA building demanding to see a sample of Quantium we’d procured.”
“The new element you guys were looking into,” Mack clarified.
“Yes. These agents, if you can call them that, were trying to take it off our hands. Fortunately, we have measures in place to hide things that are…sensitive.”
Mack rubbed his beard as he listened. In the kitchen, sounds of water being poured into mugs echoed throughout the room. It was followed closely by the clinking of a spoon on ceramic as Helen stirred the cocoa.
“This was the second time a group like that burst into our building,” Tara said, picking up the story. “Different agents, though, and they didn’t bother with formalities. They went right past Sarah and straight to the elevator leading to the basement.”
“How did they know the access code?” Mack asked. He knew the security of the building well. He and his wife had been working for the IAA in the field division for several years. While they only occasionally checked into HQ, they understood the inner workings and all the security measures in place.
“Not sure,” Tara said. “The second we saw them approaching, we knew there would be trouble. We initiated our security protocols and left through the emergency exit in the lab.”
“And no one saw you?” Helen asked, appearing in the living room with four mugs of steaming hot chocolate. She gracefully set down one of the mugs next to Alex and then carried the others over to the three children standing by the fire. They all thanked her and made their way over to a table in the corner next to the kitchen, happy to dip out of the serious conversation for a few minutes.
“No. We don’t think so,” Alex answered. “And before you ask, we weren’t followed either. At least not by a visible tail.”
“So, you think they could be tracking you?” Mack posed.
“Possibly, but the Camaro doesn’t have any electronics on it. No GPS, satellite radio, nothing modern. It’s a pure classic.”
Mack smiled approvingly. “It’s definitely that,” he agreed.
“Still,” Tara said, “we should take every precaution, just in case they were able to follow us somehow.”
“We do have help on the way,” Alex announced. “I sent a message to a new friend of ours. Said he would be here within an hour, and that was nearly a half hour ago.”
“New friend?” Helen asked. She looked over at the kids sitting around the table in the corner. They all seemed to be preoccupied with their own conversation.
“Yes,” Alex said, catching a quizzical look from his wife, who’d been unaware of the text message he sent. “He’s a former Delta Force guy. His name is Dak Harper.”
29
Atlanta
Emily stopped her sedan on a hill just out of view from the Ellerby home around the corner. She stepped out of the car and tightened her trench coat against the cold. The action pressed the pistol firmly against her hip. She didn’t want to use the firearm, not in a civilian setting like this. Bullets, however carefully placed, had the tendency to ricochet or sail on occasion, even by the most accurate shooters. The last thing she wanted was a stray bullet flying into someone’s home and striking an innocent person.
She would handle this a different way, if possible.
June exited her car right behind Emily and strolled up next to the Axis director. She followed Emily’s stare around the darkened house on the corner, looking down at the Ellerby residence, where two men in dark jackets stood guard by the front door.
“How many?” June asked, turning to face Emily. Her blonde ponytail whipped to the side with the movement.
Emily’s hair was likewise done up in the same style. She’d found it the most efficient way to maintain control of her hair while in the field, without cutting it shorter.
“Two out front, obviously. Safe to assume two covering the back as well. No sign of any others in vehicles around the perimeter. It’s likewise a good assumption that there are more insi
de the house, watching the hostages.”
June kept her gaze locked on the house. “That’s what we’re calling it?”
“Two people being held against their will by a group pretending to be federal agents? Not sure there’s another name for it.”
“I thought you said they’re legit.”
“The agents? Could be.”
“So, we’re going to attack federal agents?” June half turned toward the director.
“I did a little checking just to make sure. The bureau didn’t send anyone out here tonight. Which means this group is something else, or they have actual clearance and are working off the books. Either way, whatever they’re doing, it’s not good. And we can’t risk anything happening to innocent people if we have a chance to stop it.”
Emily raised her cell phone and pointed the camera at the house. The phone had a black device clipped to it. When she flipped on the attachment, the screen instantly switched to a thermal view of the home.
The two figures on the front porch appeared in bright reds and yellows, evidence their outerwear wasn’t doing much for them against the cold.
Emily swept the camera to the left and discovered six more figures inside the house, as well as two beyond the back door—as predicted.
“Looks like four of them inside with the family,” Emily said. She leaned to the left so June could look at the screen.
“Sounds like they brought in reinforcements. We’ve seen worse.”
Emily agreed with a short, “Indeed.” She lowered the phone and removed the thermal scanner from it, stuffing the phone in one pocket and the device in another.
“How do you want to play it?” The anticipation in June's voice was palpable. When in the field, she’d always felt a shiver of excitement and apprehension just before an assault of any kind. This one was no different in that regard, but the tactics they would need to implement certainly would be.
“No guns if possible,” Emily said. “Only if absolutely necessary.”
The Milestone Protocol Page 24
