Mystery: Satan's Road - Suspense Thriller Mystery (Mystery, Suspense, Thriller, Suspense Crime Thriller)
Page 15
“Annika. You have read Revelations. It is full of symbolism. And so is Chapertah’s translation. We have talked about some of it. I may know the answers, but the language is difficult. Help me to understand the caves.”
Another voice. “Why are they filled with fertilizer?” Why, indeed, thought Tamara? She couldn’t bluff her way through this much longer. She was losing them. She took a risk.
“The caves are underneath us, aren’t they? They serve a purpose. It is not a good one.” There was a sudden babble of hushed voices. Several more women moved in closer. Tamara could feel them crowd the bed.
“What do we do?” asked another, her voice almost breaking.
“Tell me about the fertilizer. What kind is it? How is it stored?” Gideon had countless buildings at Parkhurst. Why would he store heavy fertilizer underground?
“There are rows and rows of tanks. Thousands of bags of fertilizer. And there is the stink of diesel in the air in the tunnels. Someone said it’s a bomb. Like the one in Oklahoma City. Only bigger.” She started to whimper softly. “Why would there be a bomb under the family living quarters?”
Why indeed, though Tamara, a chill of fear working through her frail bones. “How far away are the men?” Tamara was no longer able to control her emotions. She was sure they would release her once noon had passed and all of Gideon's silly predictions failed to materialize. Now she saw another side to his plans.
“Our sons and husbands are across the field. In the barracks half a mile away. They sleep and train there. They only come here for two meals a day.”
Tamara swallowed hard. She wanted to make sure she understood. She didn’t know how much the drugs they were using could affect her judgment, the same way it affected her motor skills.
A diesel and fertilizer mix was the explosive combination that blew up the Court House in Oklahoma City. A truck full destroyed an entire federal building. What could a warehouse full of that kind of explosive do to Parkhurst? And what did Gideon have in mind? A final plan B? A mass suicide? But this wasn’t just suicide, it was mass murder.
“You have a choice. That’s what the translation says. The world doesn’t have to end if you don’t want it to.” There was a long silence. There were three possibilities now that Tamara could see. One was the mass suicide of the entire compound – a drastic last-ditch strategy that only a fanatic like Gideon would follow-up on. Two, was to use the women and children of Parkhurst as hostages, should the army break through. That made some kind of twisted sense as well. Tamara had given a lot of thought to Gideon over the last few days and she didn’t think that was his style, though. He was too arrogant to even bargain with the enemy.
Tamara spoke as slowly and as calmly as she could. “You are all living on a bomb. Parkhurst is a giant weapon that Gideon will use when he sees fit.” Then like a lightning flash, it hit her.
“Annika, if you wanted to make your boys fight to the death, what would you do?” It was a terrible question, but it had to be asked. Annika was lost for words. “I’ll tell you what you do if you are a determined and hard man like Gideon. You kill the mothers. And then you tell the sons and husbands that the government was responsible. You tell them that they dropped a bomb on Parkhurst and killed hundreds of innocent people. Nothing would stop them then. That is why the men sleep half a mile away. So they will survive the explosion.”
There wasn’t a woman in the room now that didn’t believe her. She had to give them credit. They were standing up to the truth better than she would have under similar circumstances. It made her think of Kam. Sweet loving Kam. Where was he now? How was he taking her disappearance? She wanted desperately to get through to him and let him know she was alive and well.
Tamara continued. “You need to disarm the bomb they have built in the caves. And you need to do it before Noon tomorrow. Or everyone will die.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The molded plastic seats in the back of the patrol cruiser were cutting off the circulation in my thighs and bruising my spine with every bump and turn. I’d heard about these new easy-to-clean plastic seats with their built in cavities for wrists bound in handcuffs or locking plastic straps. But a wooden church pew would have been more comfortable. And church pews don’t roar down washed-out country back roads at seventy-miles an hour.
In my lap, I held the printed notes that Jann had brought on the trip. I read and re-read them, trying to take my mind off her. It wasn’t working. For some reason, I was fixated on remembering her last words. Her voice had always had this gravelly quality that had attracted me to her the first time I heard it. What was it that she said to me just before the crash? Everything was a blank, like the memory had been beaten out of me. Or maybe it was just twenty-four hours without sleep. What could I have said if I had just one more minute with her?
The local highway patrol had been the first to respond to the accident and had pulled me free from the battered and flipped Vic. They tried to convince me I needed medical attention. From what? It had basically been a roller coaster ride with handguns. Nothing more. Luckily the semi-driver was a real pro. He had steered quickly to the left when he rounded the bend, letting his empty trailer jack-knife across the road and skid over the wrecked vehicle I was trapped in. I’ll never forget the sound of the air brakes squealing over my head and the smell of burning rubber and gasoline, but there was no collision, no exploding fuel tank. The driver ended up in the ditch, but unhurt. We all thanked him later for his quick thinking. He smiled back, a fresh cigarette hanging from his lip.
I looked at Jann’s notes again. Like most of the FBI reports I had seen, they were concise to a fault. She had noted that the Parkhurst compound was situated in heavy forest just north of the town of Ashland, off the old Washington Highway. I couldn’t confirm that; most of what I saw so far was farmland. She had added that Ashland was famous for being one of the sites of the Beltway Sniper attacks in the early 90’s when two local hunters shot a man and his wife leaving a restaurant just off Interstate 95. Lee Boyd Maliou, one of the snipers, was still serving life without parole in Virginia’s only supermax prison, Wise County.
Ashland is the largest population center in Hanover County, which is served by one of Virginias most-famous Sheriff’s departments, the reason for this notoriety was Colonel Richard Brice who had served the county for over forty years and introduced both the Criminal Intelligence Division and a Swat team to the county in the years following 9/11.
When we entered the front foyer of the Ashland county Sheriff’s office, I realized Jann was right again. Colonel Brice was tall and built as solid as a Clydesdale, a horse he apparently loved. According to her notes, he raised a dozen of them on a ranch just outside the town limits. He greeted me in the reception area as his two officers led me into his office, blood still fresh on my shirt collar.
“Detective Hyde, looks like you are only here by God’s graces.”
I shook Brice’s hand, surprised at his strength – after all, the man was twenty years my senior. He looked as crisp as a newly laundered uniform and I felt battered and shell shocked. My entire body was black and blue, but I covered it as best I could. I didn’t want anyone to suggest I couldn’t keep going.
He introduced me to a man and a woman wearing black FBI field jackets. He was surprised to find I already knew them. We had debriefed at the site of the accident for about an hour, going over the details of what Jann knew about Parkhurst. I was surprised to learn they had been operating in the area for almost a year – experts on local militia groups. They admitted they were reluctant to share too much with the local police and asked me to be discreet. Family connections, they said. You can never escape DNA out here. Be careful. They had heard about J-Day as well and felt something was about to go down. They were heading back to their recon of Parkhurst.
Brice led me into his office, offered me a chair and closed the door.
“I appreciate your co-operation, Colonel. It’s been one hell of a twenty-four hours.”
I swallowed hard. I had been asked this question already by the highway patrol that had responded to the carnage on the turnpike.
“I’m working on a case that involves the extortion of dozens of people. Some who actually committed suicide on instructions – if you can believe that. I’m guessing Roberts was under some terrible threat. Or his family was.”
Brice frowned.” So he tracked you down hundreds of miles out of his jurisdiction to kill you and an FBI special agent from Quantico?”
Hearing it said that way was like a physical blow. They found Jann’s body in a ditch, thrown clear during the roll over. Mercifully, she had died instantly from the first shot. “Stone’s death may have been unintentional. I’m not sure. I think they were after me. The rest is in the report your deputy took in the car.”
Brice locked eyes with me. “Any reason why I should think that this road trip of yours was more than a weekend fling?”
I could feel my face flush and I felt a stab of pain that was more than bruised muscles. I had drawn Jann into this. She was a brilliant analyst. But it was always more than that for me. The last thing she deserved was to be killed because I was feeling frisky.
“Stone discovered a connection between several murders and a group I believe you may be familiar with. She was here on official business – investigating Gideon Lean and the Soldiers of Patmos.”
Brice lifted one eyebrow. “I’m not surprised that the FBI are curious about Gideon. It’s not every day a billionaire moves into the neighborhood.”
I leaned forward in the wooden chair, trying to get comfortable, trying not to wince. “How do you know he’s a billionaire?”
“We have some very significant corporate interests here in Hanover County – AMF, the company that makes all that bowling equipment, and of course Phillip Morris and Verizon. Now these companies employ a lot of people, but the Presidents and CEOs live elsewhere. Gideon, on the other hand, lives right here out at Parkhurst. There is no question about his wealth. Although he doesn’t live like a rich man.”
“Pardon my saying so, but you sound like a fan.”
Brice’s face turned to stone. “I’m giving you background, detective. Don’t act like you know our business out here. He’s well-liked by the citizens and his neighbors have no qualms with him. And he hasn’t broken any laws. That’s what I know.”
“And his militia group? You’re fine with that?”
“Hyde, you come from Washington, D.C. The District, they call it. Like you’re proud of a couple of violent deaths a day. We had one homicide in Hanover last year. A farmer’s wife caught her husband cheating and shot him with her twelve gauge. The militia poses no problems here. They have a pig roast every fall that is well attended and they give prizes for the best tomatoes and pumpkins grown.”
“They loyal too? Vote for you in the last election?” I asked.
Now Brice smiled. “I have run uncontested for three terms, detective. I am not beholden to anyone. Those militia folks keep the peace. And I’m no shit-kicker, son. The SWAT team we used back in November when the 1st Trust was robbed? By armed gang members visiting from your fair city? That team was setup and trained by me. You can ask anyone – we don’t pussyfoot around here. So you keep me in your good books, hear!”
I stood up. Brice was starting to rub me the wrong way. I had a strong urge to stab my index finger firmly into his sternum. “Well, here’s the good news, colonel. At twelve noon, our intelligence tells us that Gideon, his group and quite a bit of their technology, is launching an all out attack on the United States of America and their allies.”
Brice frowned again. Hyde could sense he didn’t believe any of it. “I had a second cousin who was part of that BATF force at Waco. He killed himself shortly after. Went out into the woods with his meat rifle and never came back. I believe that’s what they call being of two-minds. Not a good way to be. You got anything better than just intelligence?” He stretched out the last word so it sounded like twice as many syllables. In-tell-i-gents.
“I have a very smart agent from Quantico, who I think was killed because we were on to Gideon’s plans. I also have a total of five other bodies and one missing woman. Two of those deaths are directly traceable back to members of the Soldiers of Patmos. And I have a computer expert out of Harvard, who tells me that today at noon, the shit hits the fan.”
“Assuming you’re right, and I’m not suggesting you are, what would you like me to do?” asked Brice.
“I think we have enough evidence for a judge to issue a search warrant, at minimum.”
“And what are we searching for, Hyde?”
“A suspect wanted on multiple murders is believed to be living in Parkhurst with Gideon’s knowledge. I just want to question him. That’s all.”
Brice tapped his fingers on his desktop. He was giving a good impression of considering the options. “So let me understand this. You want us to drive up to Parkhurst with a couple of deputies and attempt to serve a warrant on the head of one of the biggest militia groups in the country. And you don’t expect a shit storm?”
As I was about to respond, my cell phone rang. Annoyed, I pulled it out of my coat pocket. The caller ID was a number I had grown to recognize. I pressed the answer button.
“Detective. It’s Rupi. Are you at Parkhurst?” I guess I wasn’t surprised that she was asking the question. And I couldn’t see how confirming this to her could jeopardize anything. She knew nothing about Jann and I wasn’t going to get into that now.
“ETA about one to two hours.” Brice’s eyebrow went up when I said that.
Rupi’s voice sounded hollow, like she was calling from a warehouse or parking garage. “Just going there won’t stop anything. J-Day will launch at noon, regardless. It’s not like these guys have a big red button they have to push and you can stop them.”
I tried to look away from Brice. I didn’t want to show all of my cards quite yet. Assuming, of course, I was working with a full deck. “Rupi, you’ll have to leave the actual tactics to us.”
“I talked to one of the Engineers here.” She must mean Harvard. “He has an idea. It has to do with the power to their community.”
I thought about that for a few seconds. “You don’t think they’ve considered that possibility?” I looked at Brice. “They have backup generators?” I asked him, my hand over the phone.
Brice laughed and shook his head. “Military grade. A big V16 diesel like the kind they use to power hospitals when there’s a blackout. My son helped to install it. They could go without power for months.” His son? That FBI warning about DNA was good advice.
“Rupi, I have to go.”
“But hear me out. We have a potential solution.” She quickly explained her idea. Then I clicked her off. Brice was losing patience with me and I didn’t want him to kick me out of his jurisdiction just yet. Which he could, if he wanted, in a heartbeat. And might still.
“Your Harvard hacker?” he asked.
I let the comment pass. “Colonel, I need to talk to Gideon about one of his soldiers, Thomas McDane. And question him on the kidnapping we believe McDane was involved with. And I have good reason to believe that at noon today, in a couple of hours, they will launch their attack.”
Brice stood and stretched. “I think your concerns about Judgment Day today is pure bullshot. And I won’t rattle that cage with Gideon without more evidence.”
“Yes, sir,” was all I could think of to say that wouldn’t get me deeper in trouble.
“And I think you’re as crazy as a peach-orchard bear, Hyde. You had a bad accident. Got yourself banged up pretty good. Then got one of your own killed. A D.C. boy who grew up in that cauldron of a shit-hole you call home. Well, I don’t want you around here. You’re go
ing home.”
With that, he opened his office door. “Sheriff McNulty? Can you please escort detective Hyde out of this county? He has no business here and the FBI have no more use for him. So come and pick him up fast, before the shock of his accident hits him and he collapses on my new rug.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Gideon could feel it in his bones. End time. It was settling on him like a thick warm blanket.
His plans were ready to be set aside. There was a momentum to things now. They were rolling like a freight train towards the edge of the cliff. Why worry? It was unstoppable now. They had worked hard for years, but it was the kind of work that was God’s work. Not like lifting a heavy weight, but guiding a weightless object into place. All the pieces fit and that’s why he knew it was all right.
There was still a bit of polishing to be done. A bit of shining up the pieces. His people had connected with one of the cops on their payroll. They were calling in his dues.
Gideon wanted to stop Detective Hyde from interfering with his mission. It was nothing more than swatting at an annoying fly. Hyde can’t cause any serious concern. He doesn’t have the power. Still Gideon wanted him out of the way. He was obstructing the view. They told Roberts to get rid of him any way he liked, but soon. The detective had been poking into Parkhurst affairs. He even met with the Indian researcher at Harvard, the Hindi misfit. A crazy person. But she infected him somehow.
The world has let the Dark Road seep into every corner of life, into banking and commerce and politics and war. And when Gideon sucks it all away, what will be left? A tower of dust that will fall in on itself like a lifeless ghost. It will be so easy to make a new world when so little of the old world will be left to worry about.
Gideon was standing in his kitchen, watching one of his wives prepare his supper. She was young, but despite her age, a talented and imaginative cook. He watched her move around the island, her hips moving under her flower-print dress. She had the wood stove glowing, a large pot of vegetable stew bubbling in a copper kettle.