Blackout

by Chris Ryan

  'The SAS,' answered Marshall. 'The Regiment's poem. You sure it didn't stir anything?'

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  'Maybe something,' said Josh.

  'Then that's who you are,' said Marshall. 'British special forces -- I was right.' He walked up to the front door, opened it and stepped outside. 'Heard you had quite an adventure with my two friends.'

  Josh nodded.

  'You know how to handle yourself.'

  'I'm still alive.'

  'You can't stay here,' said Marshall. 'There's going to be deputies crawling all over the county by the end of the day'

  'Don't worry, daddy, we're going,' Kate interrupted.

  Marshall looked at Kate and nodded. She looked different this afternoon, Josh noted. Calmer, more relaxed. Her skin was shining, and although she was trying to disguise it, there was the hint of a smile in her eyes. Josh wasn't sure what was behind it, but he hoped that Marshall wouldn't notice.

  'Where?' said Marshall.

  Kate placed a laptop down on the kitchen table. 'To find out what's on this. It belonged to Luke, that boy'

  'You got anyone who can help us with this?' asked Josh, the question directed at Marshall.

  The older man nodded, raking a finger through his grey hair. 'I know the guy you need. Lives up in Utah. About two hundred miles north of here. Goes by the name of Kessler.' He paused, as if searching around for something in his memory. 'Sam Kessler.'

  'You think he will help us?' Kate asked.

  'If I tell him he has to he will,' snapped Marshall.

  'Then I'll pack a bag,' said Kate. 'We're leaving.'

  Josh dug deep into the pocket at the back of his jeans. The previous pair was still stained with his blood, but he had borrowed another pair of Marshall's: at this rate, Josh noted, the older guy wasn't going to have much left in his wardrobe. He pulled out two pictures. They were creased and smudged,

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  but still recognisable. They were stills from the video clips that Madge had given him yesterday, showing the leader of the group of men who had broken into the Motel 6. Josh felt sure that the men had been looking for him.

  'This guy,' said Josh, his finger jabbing down at the table as he pointed at the man. 'Any chance that you or one of your friends might know who he is?' Marshall picked up the photograph, scrutinising the man portrayed there. 'Ugly-looking mother.'

  'It would be better if I could find him before he finds me,' said Josh.

  'And what makes you think that I might know him?' There was a dangerous look on Marshall's face, Josh realised. His stare was boring into him like a drill. For a moment, he wondered whether Marshall had heard him slipping into Kate's bedroom last night.

  'I didn't say that -- I only asked if you might know who he was -- but you seem pretty well connected around here,' Josh replied.

  A smile broke-out on Marshall's face, as if Josh was the funniest guy he'd ever met. 'You catch on quick.' He picked up the pictures, folded them, and tucked them into the breast pocket of his denim shirt. 'I'll see what I can do,' he said. 'Call me. I'll let you know if I discover anything.'

  The road twisted down to the ranch house through a steep valley. It was no more than a dirt track, pitted with holes, and the suspension of tlje Mustang clattered as it bounced down the hill. 'Think he'll be pleased to see us?' said Josh.

  'No,' replied Kate, with a curt shake of her head.

  Josh looked out from the car. On one side the hills rose up towards the sky, but on the other side a flat plain stretched out for several miles. A river trickled along near the horizon: at this stage of the summer, it had dried to just a few inches of water. He could just make out some trees growing in a

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  thicket about a mile away. A pack of semi-wild horses were watering themselves by the river. Otherwise, it was just grassland and scrub. There was not another building anywhere in sight.

  This is about as remote as you can get within a civilised country. A good place to hide.

  The house was just one storey, made from wood. A porch ran along its entire front. To the right there was a giant set of solar panels and to the left a fifteen-foot satellite dish pointed up to the sky. Electricity and TV, noted Josh. All a man needs to survive.

  He hopped out of the car and walked towards the door. It was just after five in the evening, and the heat of the day was starting to ebb. From Ferndale, it had taken them four hours straight to drive here, heading due north up through Arizona, crossing over the state line into Utah, and turning due east, crossing another fifty miles until they hit Kanab, the closest town to the ranch house.

  'Are you Sam Kessler?' said Josh to the man who opened the door.

  The man nodded. To Josh, he looked at least fifty, with a face that bore the scars of a difficult life. His hair was black but had thick streaks of grey running through it. He wore it long, tumbling down over his neck, and he had a thick moustache that almost hid his mouth. His eyes were round, set close to his nose, and his jaw was thick with folds of fat.

  'You're Marshall's friend?' said K^ssler.

  Josh nodded.

  'Then you better come in.'

  Marshall had only given Josh the sketchiest outline of Kessler, and of how he'd come to know him. He'd been in Vietnam, but had then made a career for himself in computers, working for the big companies in Silicon Valley across in California, until a decade ago he'd moved out to

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  this decaying horse ranch in Utah. He lived by himself -- his wife hadn't thought much of the wilderness and had moved back to California after a couple of years -- and supported himself by freelancing as a computer-security consultant. If local companies wanted someone to make their systems secure, Kessler was the man they turned to. 'If anyone can find anything on that computer, Kessler can,' Marshall had said to them just before they'd left.

  'I'm grateful for your time,' said Josh, stepping into the hallway.

  Inside, the hall had stone flooring and wooden walls. It was decorated with riding ornaments: saddles, stirrups, horseshoes and whips. Kessler led them through into the kitchen. There was no offer of coffee or even a glass of water: Josh decided that asking would be a mistake.

  'Where's the kit?' said Kessler.

  Kate took the laptop from its bag, putting it down on the table. Kessler glanced down, then raised an eyebrow. 'What's the problem?'

  'It's empty,' said Josh. 'All the files have been erased.'

  Kessler sat down at the table. He flipped open the laptop, switched it on and looked at the screen. 'Maybe there's nothing there,' he said. 'Maybe somebody just bought it.'

  Josh sat down at the other side of the table. 'No, there "was definitely something there,' he said firmly. 'I think they deleted the files.'

  'Who did it belong to?'

  Kessler's stare shot up to meet Josh's as he posed the question.

  'That doesn't matter,' said Kate quickly.

  'It matters to me,' said Kessler. 'In my experience, computers are kind of personal. People don't like other people fishing around in their kit, the same way they don't like them breaking into their houses -- or screwing their wives.'

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  Josh glanced at Kate then back towards Kessler. 'That doesn't matter,' he snapped. 'The guy this machine belonged to won't mind you looking at it. We're trying to help him.' Josh paused. 'Trust me.'

  'Trust you?' Kessler laughed. 'I've only just met you -- how the hell am I going to trust you?'

  Josh reached out for the laptop, snapping its cover shut. 'If you don't want to help us, that's fine. We're sorry to have wasted your time.' He started to lift himself from the seat.

  'I'll tell Marshall that you weren't able to do anything for us.'

  Kessler raised his hand. 'I'll look at it,' he said wearily. 'Give me a couple of days. I'll tell you if I can find anything.'

  Josh placed the laptop back down on the table. 'Two days is too long,' he said. 'I need it done now. We can wait here while you take a look at it
.'

  'I work on my own terms or not at all,' said Kessler. 'I'll get to you as fast as I can. But this isn't Hackers-While-UWait. Take it or leave it.'

  'I'll take it,' said Josh. 'Thanks.'

  Kessler took back the laptop and put it on the side of the table. 'I'm going to give you a cellphone,' he said. 'It's a secure line. All traces of who it belonged to have been erased, and I'm the only person who has the number. Any message transmitted through it can't be traced. I'll call you on that when I'm ready'

  Josh nodded. Kessler was clearly.a man who had plenty of clients who liked to keep their business very secret. 'Just make it as fast as possible,' he said. 'We'll be waiting to hear from you.'

  Josh handed over two twenty-dollar bills to the clerk at the gas station, and waited for his change. He glanced out towards Kate who was sitting waiting for him in the

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  Mustang. The sun was setting but the air was still hot and dry, and Josh added a couple of bottles of cold Coke and some biscuits to his purchases.

  We're getting closer, he told himself. I can smell it. I may not know who I am yet but I know about endgames. And this one is starting to come together.

  'You got a phone?' he asked the clerk.

  'Out back, by the toilets,' said the clerk, handing across the change.

  Josh started walking to the back of the gas station. An image was flashing through his mind. O'Brien, Morant and himself attacking an FBI agent as he stood at a urinal. Step carefully, he told himself. You don't want to get coshed while you're making a call of nature.

  He fed fifty cents into the phone's coin box, checking the surrounding area as he did so. So far as he could see, it was empty. They had taken a back road through Utah back into Arizona, keeping clear of the Interstate in case there were any police checks at the state or county boundaries. The road was empty. Even at the gas stations there were only a few customers.

  Marshall picked up the phone after a couple of rings. 'Kate with you?' he said as soon as Josh said hello.

  'Yup, she's fine,' said Josh.

  'Kessler helping you?'

  'Reluctantly' said Josh. 'What do you have on him?'

  'Doesn't matter,' said Marshall. 'He helped, didn't he? That's all that counts.'

  True enough, Josh reckoned. 'Any leads on the man in the picture?'

  Josh felt certain that if Marshall could identify the man in the picture that he'd given him, then that would be another lead.

  Something in the drawn-out silence that followed his question suggested to Josh that he was going to be told

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  something, but not everything. With Marshall, he never felt he was getting more than half the story.

  'I reckon it's a guy called Jim Flatner,' said Marshall eventually.

  'Who's he?'

  Another pause, while Marshall seemed to weigh up how much to say. 'He's a biker.'

  'I figured that from his clothes,' said Josh. 'Either that or he's some old queen who likes to dress up in leather.'

  Marshall chuckled. 'He hangs out in the empty country, about twenty miles east of Scottsdale. There's about thirty of them living out in the mountains. Mostly men, but there are a few girls there as well. A few kids, too. It's kind of an alternative community'

  'What do they do?'

  'Anything that pays,' said Marshall. 'Some drug dealing. Fencing stolen goods. That kind of thing. They try not to bother the local community, and the locals stay out of their way'

  'They were looking for me,' said Josh. 'I'm sure of it.'

  'I think you can be twice as sure now.'

  Josh gripped the phone tighter in his hands. He looked out across the forecourt of the station. Kate had climbed out of the car, and was walking up and down impatiently. A truck had pulled up, filling up its tank with diesel. 'Why?'

  'Your friend Madge,' said Marshall. 'She's dead.'

  Josh paused. An image of the girl lying in his arms was playing out in his mind: the way^he was just a few days ago, when she was full of passion and life. 'What the hell happened?'

  'There was a story on the local news,' said Marshall. 'Said she killed herself. Threw herself off a bridge in Boisdale.'

  'That's a lie.'

  Marshall chuckled again. 'Probably the oldest lie the police ever heard.'

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  'I was with her just couple of days ago,' continued Josh, glancing at Kate. 'She wasn't the kind of girl who kills herself. She had no reason to, and even if she had she wouldn't do it. She just wasn't the type.' Josh paused. 'Somebody killed her. And if they killed her, they'll want to kill me as well.'

  Josh started walking back towards the car. Why the hell would anyone want to kill Madge? he wondered to himself. Christ, it must have been because she was in touch with me. I told her that if she found out anything more, then she should get in touch with me at Marshall's house.

  He could feel his stomach churning with guilt. Just that tiny sliver of information cost the girl her life.

  Could those bikers be working for the Feds? No, that doesn't make any sense. Then who? Who the hell are they and what do they want? What can I possibly have known that was worth all this?

  Josh made a decision. He didn't want to just hang around and wait for Kessler to come up with something. Find those bikers -- and find-out who they are working for, he told himself.

  A fire was burning down in the camp. Josh held the binoculars to his eyes, scanning the tiny community. From his vantage point high up in the hills, he could count about fifteen homes. They were made from wood, canvas and corrugated iron: rough, shanty-town shelters that could be taken down as quickly as_ they had been thrown up.

  He turned towards Kate. 'You reckon he's down there somewhere?'

  She nodded. 'This is his territory,' she said. 'It's only a few square miles of desert, but Marshall says Flatner rules it like some medieval warlord.'

  After hearing of Madge's death, they had driven straight into the mountains where Marshall said the bikers had their

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  camp, stopping only once at a gas station to grab a pair of microwaved burgers. Josh sensed that there was little time for delay. The conspiracy was closing in on them fast. If they'd found Madge, soon they would find both him and Kate. And it might be sooner than they knew.

  Take the fight to the enemy. I don't know where the hell I remember that from, but it was good advice.

  They'd parked the Mustang three miles away, and had covered the rest of the distance on foot. It was too dangerous to approach the camp in a car. There was only one dirt track leading up through the mountains, and Josh had to assume that it was watched. The bikers could have posted lookouts. Or they could have rigged it up with electronic sensors. It didn't matter which. Either way, Josh had to assume that it was under surveillance. They would certainly detect a car.

  The trek had been a long and hard one. The first mile was fine, but after that the country had started to rise sharply upwards, and Josh had found the ground heavy going. They had stopped on the way to pick up some supplies from a gas station: four litres of water, some tinned beans, bacon and biscuits, and some matches, plus a couple of cheap plastic rucksacks to sling their kit over their backs. The weight of the gear was making the going tougher. Josh could tell that his leg was still far from healed: there was nothing he could do about the damage inflicted on his muscles, however. Recuperation will have to wait, he told himself. Right now, the best I can^hope for is to stay alive.

  Josh folded away his binoculars and put them back in his pocket. He'd seen a fire at the centre of the camp, and he could see some men sitting around, smoking joints and drinking beer. But at this distance, and in this darkness, it was impossible to get a clear line on any of their faces. 'We won't see anything tonight,' he said. 'Too late and too dark.'

  'And what are you hoping to find exactly, Josh?' said Kate.

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  He turned to face her. Not for the first time in the few days that they had spent together, he found
himself wondering what was driving her on. At times she was considerate, at others angry, sometimes helpful, and sometimes just difficult. Maybe I've forgotten what women are like, he wondered to himself. Maybe I never knew.

  'The key,' he said. 'My memory is there somewhere, I know it. I get glimpses. All I need is something to unlock it all.'

  'And you think that it might be here?'

  Josh shook his head. 'I won't know it until I find it,' he replied.

  Kate had started unfurling the cloth that they had picked up along with the rest of their supplies. It looked like a picnic rug, with a plastic sheet on one side. The mountainside was rising above them, with the valley and the camp stretched out down below. They were about halfway up on a steep incline, with a set of boulders shielding their position from anyone looking up from the camp. Josh broke out some biscuits-and a bottle of water, and went to he next to Kate on the rug.

  'I'm frightened, Josh.'

  He put his arm around her, grateful for the warmth of her skin next to his. The exhaustion of the day had seeped into every bruised limb: the wound on his leg was weeping with pain and his brain was spinning as he tried to make sense of everything that had happened in the past few days.

  The same question played itself, over and over, like a tape stuck in a loop. What can I have done that this many people want me dead?

  Kate was running her lips down the side of his neck. He pulled her tighter against him, aware of her breath on his skin. He started to roll her over onto her back, but she pushed him away playfully, pinning his arms down and slowly unbuttoning his shirt with her teeth. He reached

  At;

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  out, glancing towards the stars, then at the magnificent mane of red hair streaming above him. Taking each button of her blouse in turn, he undressed her with the same care and attention with which he would field-strip a treasured gun. As he did so, he listened to her whimpers and moans of pleasure as they disturbed the silence of the desert night.

  Josh closed his eyes. Suddenly, he was startled to find another image playing in front of his eyes. Another woman was making love to him. A brunette. With long dark hair and deep brown eyes, she had skin that was smooth, supple and tanned to perfection. There was a metal stud in her belly button. And her face was sculpted as if from marble, with delicate eyes, a straight nose, high, narrow cheekbones, and a wicked, mischievous mouth.