The Trigger

by L. J. Sellers

  * * *

  Dallas raced down the narrow road, glad there was no traffic. The near total darkness was unnerving, but she’d taken high-speed driver training at Quantico without killing any fake citizens, so she would be all right. As long as a deer didn’t wander into her path. They didn’t worry about such creatures in the desert. Around Phoenix, you were more likely to run over a snake or a rat.

  She pushed her speed, pleased to be driving an Audi, and eased up only for the sweeping curve where Emma’s car had gone off the road. Had Emma ever really been a victim? She’d seemed pretty happy to get out of the bunker at the time. Dallas shook it off. Emma didn’t matter now. She had to talk to Randall. She picked up her Sonja phone, glad she was compulsive about creating contacts. “Call Randall Clayton.”

  He was egotistical—or curious—enough to pick up. “Sonja, you are hard to keep down. What do you want?” An edge of panic made him sound amused.

  “Just wondering where you’re headed. Emma told me you planned to hit internet buildings. Does that mean tech companies or network server locations?”

  He made a startled sound. “Why should I tell you?”

  “It’s not too late to give up before you get caught.”

  He laughed, a phony sound. “I’m not going to get caught, so unless you’re in a car right behind me, you’re wasting your time.”

  “I am in a car right behind you.”

  A sharp intake of breath, followed by a pause. “You’re lying. No one is back there. I’ve been watching.”

  “No, we’re watching. Before you do anything stupid, you should know that Spencer blamed you for everything. He said he tried to stop you, then he cut me free and sent me after you.”

  “Bullshit! My brother would never turn on me. You’re trying to drive a wedge between us.”

  Now Dallas laughed. “Too late for that. Spencer already opened up a chasm.” She tried to push him into a mistake. “Still headed to the capital?”

  “Nice try. Now fuck off.” He hung up.

  His abruptness made her think she’d guessed correctly. But what did he plan to target in Sacramento? The capitol building itself? Dallas wondered how long it would take the bureau to get a chopper in the sky over this area. Even in the dark, a chopper could pick up Randall’s truck and track its movements. But pulling people out of bed and putting them into the right gear and location took time. Gibson’s job was to prompt the FBI director to execute warrantless phone and email searches, and that would take a series of phone calls and maybe as long as an hour. Companies and buildings around California could start to blow up at any minute. Or maybe Randall’s reach was even wider. How many conspirators did he have?

  Dallas pressed the gas, hitting ninety, determined to catch up.

  Chapter 37

  Gibson’s hands shook as he called the cell phone of his supervisor in the Sacramento office. Tempted as he was to make a direct call to the main office in Washington D.C., the bureau was a chain-of-command entity, and this was how it had to be done. He just hoped following protocol didn’t take too long.

  After four rings, a tense female voice picked up. “This is Kerry Meyers. How can I help you?”

  “Special Agent Gibson, FBI field office, Redding California. We have a national security situation.”

  “Give me the details.” She didn’t miss a beat.

  “Randall and Emma Clayton are in a truck with an explosive, headed for an unknown target, likely in Northern California. More terrorists are probably involved. We don’t know who they are or what their targets are. We need to access Randall Clayton’s phone and email records immediately to determine who he’s working with.”

  “Let me get online with the D.C. office.” The special agent in charge fumbled something, trying to access what sounded like a keyboard. “How do you know this?”

  “We had an undercover agent in a local prepper community looking for a missing woman. She found a lot more than that.”

  “Spell the suspect’s name and give me every contact detail you have for him.”

  Gibson gave her the intel, then added, “Our agent in the field thinks the targets are tech companies and internet hubs. Can we get the National Guard out to protect Silicon Valley?”

  “That will be up to the director.”

  “There’s more.”

  “I’m listening.” Her voice had a little catch.

  “There’s a cyber attack hitting the banking system that could wreak havoc on Monday.”

  “That’s not our department. Call the FDIC, or maybe the Federal Reserve.”

  “Should you call Homeland Security?”

  “Again, that will be up to the director. The administration has made it clear that terrorism is our jurisdiction. I’m sure the bureau will put SWAT units and hostage-rescue teams in the air shortly.”

  “I have two agents pursuing Clayton. They may have visual contact. Please ask the tactical units to be careful.”

  “Once our chopper team has picked up his vehicle, get your people out of there.”

  “Will do.”

  “What are Clayton and his group trying to accomplish?”

  “If I find out, I’ll get back to you.” Gibson hung up and pulled on his pants. He wasn’t making another call in his underwear or without coffee.

  Chapter 38

  Randall had planned to cut through town over to the freeway, but with an FBI agent on his tail, he decided to stick to the side roads for a while. After a short stretch on 299, he turned south on Deschutes. His legs trembled as he drove, and he worried about wrecking the truck and blowing themselves up. The hives on his chest itched so badly he wanted to tear off his skin.

  Had Spencer really turned on him? Was it over? Sonja was certainly on his case. If he had one fed after him, more would be coming. It was starting to sink in that even if the trigger plans were successful—and they still could be—he and Emma would likely be arrested and jailed. Randall couldn’t accept that. He could come to terms with the idea that the new world he’d helped create would go on without him, but he wouldn’t let them put him in a cell. He was prepared to die for his cause.

  “That was the FBI agent, right?” Emma’s hands were gripped tightly together. “She got loose and is following us?”

  “Unfortunately.” He decided not to tell her about Spencer’s betrayal.

  “What are we going to do?”

  Randall was still deciding. It was hard to think and concentrate on the road while driving seventy miles an hour in the dark. “We have three options. We can stop the whole thing by calling off the other futurists and letting them arrest us. That means prison for me, but probably not for you. We can say I forced you to come with me.” He glanced over to see her reaction, but she kept her face averted.

  “Or we can make a run for it. I have contacts in Oregon who will take us in. We can change our appearance, get new IDs, and start over.”

  “What about Tate? We’d have to go back for him eventually.” Emma’s eyes watered with distress.

  “Or Spencer could bring him to us.” Not if Spencer was in jail, Randall thought. The state would take custody of Tate as soon as they became fugitives, but Emma didn’t need to know that.

  “What’s the third option?” she asked.

  “We go for it. Set the explosion at the exchange center, and let the others set theirs. We can try to run after that, but we’ll likely be killed by federal agents. I won’t let them take me alive.”

  “Oh fuck.” Emma choked back a sob. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Your followers were supposed to set the explosives, and I never thought you would really go through with it.”

  His hands tensed on the steering wheel. How could she doubt his nerve? Besides, this was her fault. “You started the whole thing by packing your bags to leave Destiny. Now deal with it.”

  “My mother was sick. It was just temporary.”

  “Your mother is a hypochondriac, and you usually ignore her. This time I thought you were leavin
g me.”

  “What difference does it make now? We have to make a plan!”

  “What do you want to do?”

  She grabbed his shoulder, so he would look at her. “Let’s call it off and make a run for it. I want a fresh start.”

  Randall was torn. “There’s another option. We can let the other explosions happen, but skip our part. The financial triggers have been set, so the meltdown is happening anyway.” He didn’t know if he should tell her about the war Raff might have started. “All we have to do is get out of the state, then start gathering supplies again.”

  “Do we have the money for that?”

  “I have cash with me. We can stop at ATMs along the way and take out the limit at each one.”

  “This is freaking me out! I don’t want to die or go to jail.” Emma nervously rubbed her legs. “But you’re right about letting your followers go through with their attacks. The more diversions the cops have, the less likely they are to come after us.”

  Randall noticed a sign for the 44 turnoff. He would take the exit heading east, then go north on a back road like Oak Run and disappear.

  The phone in his lap rang again, startling him. He looked at the ID: Agent McCullen. What the hell? Was he still looking for Emma? The thought almost made him laugh. He decided to let the asshole know that Emma was with him, that she’d chosen him again. “What can I do for you?”

  “Put me on speaker. I want to talk to Emma.”

  Shit. How much did he know? “I don’t think so. She’s made her choice.”

  “I don’t think you know your wife very well.”

  Randall could hear an engine in the background. Was McCullen in a vehicle? “What are you talking about?”

  “Put me on speaker, and I’ll tell you some things about Emma that you might want to know before you make a major life decision. But I want to hear her voice first.”

  Randall glanced at his wife.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  The knot in Randall’s stomach tightened. He knew better than to trust what law enforcement said. They often lied to accomplish their goals. But he wanted to watch Emma’s reaction to what McCullen had to say. Her face would tell him the truth. Randall clicked over to speaker. “Make it quick.”

  “Hey, Emma. How are you?” The agent’s tone was mocking.

  “Caleb? What do you want?” Emma sounded worried.

  “Does your husband know what happened on April 21st?”

  Randall glanced at his wife. Her eyes were wide with fear.

  “Hang up,” she hissed. “He’s just trying to mess with us.”

  Emma’s obvious distress caused a wave of nausea to roll over him. “What is this about?”

  McCullen’s voice came at him again. “Did you know your ex-wife is dead, Randall? They pulled her out of the pool at the Four Corners Motel. She’d been conked on the head.”

  Confusion overwhelmed him. Tamara was dead? Killed in Redding? “When did this happen? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  McCullen’s voice through the speaker was matter-of-fact. “Tamara died about three weeks ago. Right before her death, she was seen in the parking lot next to The Highland. Emma was in the restaurant that night.”

  “So what are you saying?” Randall eased up on the gas. He was having trouble concentrating, and he didn’t want to miss his turn.

  “Tamara came here to rob your restaurant. Emma saw her casing the place, followed her to the motel, and killed her. Didn’t you, Emma?”

  “No! Why would I do that?” Emma was shouting, her fists clenched.

  “I’m still working on motive,” McCullen said, with forced cheerfulness. “But I think Tamara might have known that Tate wasn’t Randall’s kid.”

  It hit him like a blow to the chest. “What the fuck do you mean?” Randall screamed at the phone, but stared at his wife.

  “She slept with me about nine months before he was born.”

  Another body blow, followed by brain freeze. Randall heard Emma protesting and McCullen sneering, but it all sounded distant and he couldn’t focus on either.

  McCullen had one more blow. “I also found Emma’s fingerprints on the murder weapon.”

  “That’s impossible!” Emma shrieked. “I wiped—” She caught herself but it was too late.

  The dark road in front of Randall curved left and he pressed the accelerator.

  “Slow down!” Emma gripped the strap above her door.

  Randall ignored her. The exit came up but he flew through the intersection. He wasn’t making a run for it with a woman he couldn’t trust. A whore and a killer. Disgust filled the holes in his belly eaten by anger.

  “Randall, please—”

  “Shut up! I need to think.”

  Ten minutes later, he changed his mind again. He would blow up something today, but not the network building in Sacramento. It was too far away, and the feds would have too much time to stop him. What was nearby? What could he plow into that would wreak havoc?

  DigiSpace, the internet company just outside of Redding. He would turn back and drive like a madman into the building. The impact would set off both explosives in the truck.

  He and Emma would die. And that was fine with him.

  Chapter 39

  Emma struggled to stop crying. How had all this happened? The last three weeks had been a nightmare! Until recently, her life had been fine—or mostly fine, except for boredom and dealing with Randall’s control issue. Then she’d spotted Randall’s ex-wife spying on the restaurant, and everything had gone to shit. Now they were speeding down the highway in the dark with FBI agents chasing them, and Randall was freaking out and talking about blowing them up.

  Panicked, Emma tried to smooth things over. “I didn’t hook up with Caleb. He’s lying to distract you and gain an edge. Cops do that.”

  “Yeah? After years of trying, why did you suddenly get pregnant?”

  “It happens.” The way Randall looked at her sent shivers down her neck. She’d always known he was a little sociopathic—it was part of the attraction—but he looked murderous. She’d recently discovered that anyone could become that way. “You have to let this go! We’re in a lot of trouble and have to be smart.”

  “What about Tamara? Tell me what happened!” He grabbed her hair and pulled her toward him. “Tell me everything, or I swear I’ll run us into the next big tree.”

  Emma hated what had happened, and she would never tell him everything. But as she started to explain, that night came back to her in graphic detail.

  She’d gone out the back of the restaurant to sneak a cigarette. She’d quit smoking years ago to make Randall happy, but she smoked every once in a while when the stress of the restaurant got to her.

  She was staring at the bank next door, not really noticing it, but thinking of something else, when she realized there was a car parked in the back of the lot. Very unusual for the bank at night. The vehicle wasn’t familiar, but the woman in it seemed like someone she knew. The dark and the distance kept her from being sure, but later, when the restaurant had closed, Emma grabbed her purse and went out to check. The car and the woman were still there. Curious, worried, and a little pissed, she headed over. The woman started the car and backed up, but not before Emma realized it was Tamara, Randall’s ex-wife. What the hell was she doing in Redding, spying on their business?

  Emma hurried to her own vehicle and quickly pulled out of the parking lot, following the Dodge Avenger. Tamara drove a half mile to the Four Corners Motel. Emma pulled in just in time to see her going into a room near the end. Was Tamara here to cause trouble for Randall? Or mess with her marriage?

  She decided to find out. Nervous, but determined, Emma knocked on the door. The room was silent. Finally, she called out, “It’s Emma Clayton. I want to talk to you.”

  From inside Tamara told her to go away.

  “If you don’t tell me what you’re up to, I’ll call the police and report that you were casing the restaurant.” Emma kept her voice l
ow, not wanting to wake up anyone.

  The door opened, and Tamara gestured for her to come inside. Emma noticed that the years had not been kind to Randall’s ex. Her hair was fried from bad bleaching products, her eyelids had gone saggy, and the corners of her mouth were turning down. But she was still curvy and blond, and older men would find her attractive.

  The motel room smelled nasty, like sweat or dog hair, and Emma wanted to get the encounter over with. “What are doing in Redding? What do you want?”

  “It’s none of your business. I’m leaving tomorrow, so don’t worry about it.” Tamara sounded as if she’d been drinking, but her tone was casual.

  “Why were you watching the restaurant? Are you spying on me? Or were you planning something?”

  Tamara suddenly lashed out. “I need money. Randall spent all of mine buying that goddamn piece of property and all those fucking prepper supplies.”

  “You were going to rob us?”

  “That bastard owes me. Give me ten grand and I’ll go away and you’ll never see me again.”

  “Are you crazy?” Emma wanted to walk out, but she didn’t trust this woman. “I’m tempted to call the police.”

  “I’m tempted to tell Randall that baby isn’t his.”

  A knife to her stomach. “You bitch. What do you know?”

  “I know that Randall is sterile. We tried to have kids too, and there’s nothing wrong with my goods. I’ve been pregnant twice. Just not with Randall.”

  Fear gripped Emma and made her feel on fire. “That doesn’t mean anything. Just leave us the hell alone.”

  They both tried to keep their voices down, so they didn’t end up with the manager pounding on the door.

  Tamara repeated her demand. “Give me ten grand or I’ll tell Randall you cheated on him and that Tate is not his kid. I’m pretty sure I know who you cheated with too. This is a small town, and I lived here, remember?” She spat the words out in a harsh whisper.

  Emma’s thoughts came rapidly, crashing into each other and making her pulse race. Randall would divorce her and fire her from the restaurant. She’d be a homeless, jobless single mother, and everyone would eventually know the truth. Even if she stole the money from The Highland to pay this nasty bitch, Tamara might come back for more.