* * *
Charlotte drove blindly down the winding roads of rural Pennsylvania. Her mind still couldn’t catch up with the events of that morning. How could any of it be real?
Tears rolled down her face again as she tried to fight back the terrifying images of the man shooting at the back of the car as she’d driven away and the jolt that had coursed through her when the rear window had shattered.
She glanced down at her cell phone and saw the last message displayed on the screen, which had initially told her something was wrong.
One word stood out above the others: Failsafe.
Her dad had explained what the term meant. He’d also made sure she comprehended the seriousness of the need for such extreme measures. Charlotte had thought she understood his security protocols, but never had she envisioned the gunshots that would accompany their necessity.
Swiping at the moisture on her cheeks, she willed her heartbeat to steady and prayed for clarity of thought as she sorted through the myriad questions in her head. Who had shot at her? Why had he been at the farm? And what had become of her father?
Just two days ago, Kurt had expressed concern that someone had tried to trace the GPS in his car. He and Charlotte’s father had made some modifications to the GPS system to make sure no one could track Kurt, but their efforts had obviously been in vain.
She continued on, desperately hoping for one of the two men to call her, praying they were still alive.
She reached an intersection and stopped, unsure what to do next. Her dad had told her never to use her cell phone if he had to engage the failsafe system, but he couldn’t have meant she shouldn’t call for help. She hadn’t seen her pursuers since she’d left the farm ten minutes before. Surely she was far enough away now to make the call.
She dialed 911, gulping in a deep breath of air to steady her voice and fight her emotions.
“911. What’s your emergency?” The woman’s professional voice created the temporary illusion of safety, the sense that someone else could take care of the nightmare she was living. Unfortunately, she knew it wasn’t possible.
“I heard gunshots at the Martin farm.” She relayed the address, fighting for calm.
“Are you in a safe location?”
“I think so.”
“Okay, I have contacted the sheriff’s department, and they are on their way.”
“Thank you.” She hung up before the woman could ask for any more information.
She thought of the emergency procedures her dad had put in place. He had drilled it into her head that if something went wrong, she couldn’t trust anyone besides the guardians.
The cell phone in her hand was her only connection to her dad, but protocol demanded she dispose of it to eliminate any possibility of being connected to him and the top-secret program he had created.
She had to become invisible, just like the men and women in the program who had dedicated their lives to the safety and security of her country.
Checking the time on the phone, she calculated how long it would take for the sheriff to get to the farm. Twenty minutes. Maybe twenty-five. Whether it was safe or not, she knew she couldn’t get rid of her phone until she could call the lab and find out if her dad and Kurt were okay.
Knowing the GPS chip in her phone could be a liability, she pressed down on the power button and turned it off.
She looked up at the three-way intersection where she was currently idling, debating which way to go. The shattered rear window would make her stand out, but she could hardly do anything about that right now.
Hoping she would find safety in numbers, she finally turned toward the nearest town and began counting the minutes until she could call.
Chapter 3
Nelson Hendricks turned the corner into the Martins’ driveway. The call of shots fired at Dwight’s place didn’t bother him much. This wasn’t the first time some out-of-towner had happened by the old farm when Dwight or that girl of his were out practicing shooting.
What did concern him was his inability to raise anyone on the phone. Always, in the past, if no one answered the house phone, Nelson had been able to catch Dwight on his cell. Today, no one answered regardless of the number he dialed.
He glanced out to the east pasture, where two targets were situated at the base of a natural bluff. His finger tapped against the steering wheel when he saw that the open field in front of the targets was unoccupied. Continuing steadily forward, he took note of Dwight’s pickup truck beneath a wide oak tree at the edge of the front lawn. A second car, a small sedan, was parked near the entrance to the barn.
Seeing the barn door hanging open, Nelson headed there first. He climbed out of his cruiser and caught a scent he wouldn’t normally expect on a horse farm: blood. Nelson’s three years working in Pittsburgh had exposed him to that particular smell more often than he would have liked.
He immediately reached for his holster and readied his gun. After calling for backup, he pressed himself to the side of the barn and made his way forward. The first body came into view when he peeked through the doorway. The dark hair told him the man wasn’t Dwight: Dwight’s hair had turned gray years before.
Alert to any sound inside of the barn or out, he pushed the door open wider. The hinges creaked loudly, followed by silence.
Nelson entered, stopping to check the man on the floor for a pulse. He found none. Following his training, he methodically checked the main section of the barn, crossing the hard-packed dirt floor as he did so. The two stalls to his left stood empty and were surprisingly void of any straw or hay. An old tractor occupied the open area on his right, and Nelson circled it to ensure he was really alone.
He looked down at the body near the door again. Who was this man? And where was Dwight?
* * *
The moment Ace heard the report of shots fired, he coded a message to Kade. All of the guardians had checked in over the past half hour, but besides himself, only Kade was currently residing on the East Coast.
He knew Dwight would want the others to go about their normal business, supporting undercover operatives in the field when they needed to work outside the system. Each one managed a handful of agents in their respective parts of the world, yet every agent knew them only by the nickname Ghost. The term was simple and vague and was shared among the seven guardians.
Because Kade had shown a strong aptitude in electronics and forgery, he had settled in the Virginia Beach area near one of the CIA’s training facilities. With Dwight preparing to retire, Ace had stepped up as the managing guardian, overseeing their assignments, establishing security protocols for new agents in distress, and funneling money to those who needed it. That particular activity would cease to be an issue in the near future. Regardless of why Dwight had shut down the guardian database, one thing was certain: their funding chain was now frozen.
A message chimed on Ace’s secure phone, and he picked it up to read it. The message from Kade was simple and direct: Tomorrow. Ace hoped by then they would hear from Dwight and find out that this was all a test . . . or a huge mistake.
* * *
Nelson heard a phone ringing and automatically checked his cell, even though the ringtone clearly sounded like a landline. He made his way along the back of the barn, this time noticing something he had previously missed in the dark corner: a wooden door that blended into the planks of the wall.
He didn’t see a doorknob, but when he pushed on it, the door gave way. It was heavier than he would have expected, and he put his shoulder against it to open it fully. His jaw fell open in shock.
Finished white walls, florescent lighting overhead, three huge computer screens on a long desk, all flashing the word failsafe, and Dwight Martin lying dead in the middle of the linoleum floor.
The phone on the long desk stopped ringing. Before he could move inside to back trace the call, he heard movement at the outside door.
“Nelson? Are you in here?”
Nelson recognized the voice of his n
ewest deputy, a rookie who had been with him for only six months. “Back here, Larry.”
Larry came to stand beside him. He let out a low whistle. “What in the world is all this? And what happened here?”
“That’s our job, to find out.” Nelson swallowed hard. “Go call this in, and then check out the house. Make sure you wear gloves.”
“I will.” Larry quickly disappeared the way he’d come.
“Now what?” Nelson muttered to himself. The words were still hanging in the air when the phone on the desk rang once more.
* * *
Charlotte pulled to a stop as the traffic light on Main Street turned red. She glanced at the clock on her dashboard. Twenty-two minutes since she had called 911. Surely someone would be at the farm by now.
Urgently, she dialed the familiar phone number and listened to it ring. A horn honked behind her, causing her to look up and realize the light had turned green. Frustrated and worried that no one was answering, she ended the call and pulled through the intersection, still not sure where she was heading.
The emergency instructions Dwight had outlined for her hadn’t included her driving her own car. His truck was supposed to be her transportation of choice, but the man chasing after her had made that option impossible. She would have to get rid of her car and make sure no one could track her through the vehicle’s GPS.
First things first, she thought. She drove a few more blocks and parked at an old dock overlooking the creek that ran along the edge of town. Her heartbeat quickened as she once again dialed the number for the computer lab. This time it only rang twice before a man’s voice answered.
It wasn’t her dad or Kurt. This wasn’t a good sign. Charlotte swallowed hard.
“Hello?” the man repeated.
She was tempted to hang up but couldn’t do it. She had to know.
“Where’s Dwight?” she asked.
“Who is this?” came the response.
“I just want to know if Dwight is okay.”
“Charlie? Is that you?” the man asked. The voice was familiar, but Charlotte still couldn’t quite place it.
“Who is this?”
“It’s Nelson Hendricks.” Nelson’s voice took on a grave tone when he added, “I’m so sorry, Charlie. Your father is dead.”
Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut. She bit the inside of her lip, trying to force herself to speak again. “What about his assistant? Is he there?”
“We found a second body here, but he doesn’t have any ID on him.”
“Dark hair, around thirty-five years old,” she managed to say despite the tears now trickling down her cheeks.
“That sounds like him. I haven’t seen this guy before. What’s going on, Charlie? Who did this? What is this room?”
Charlotte didn’t answer. She hung up the phone and pressed her fingers against her mouth as a sob bubbled up inside her. For as long as she could remember, Dwight Martin had taken care of her, protected her. She had been only three when she had come to live with him and his wife, Belinda.
She had been a terrified little girl who had just lost her parents in a car accident, and the Martins had given her a home and ultimately a future. The loss of Belinda just six months earlier to kidney disease still ached. Now to lose Dwight too, and in such a sudden, horrifying manner, was too much to bear.
Through the tears clinging to her lashes, she looked down at the cell phone still in her hand. Stay safe, little one. Dwight’s words, the same ones he’d uttered every time she’d left the house, echoed through her mind. She thought of the many promises she had made to him and forced herself to climb out of the car.
Making her way to the edge of the wooden dock, she looked down at the little creek, held the phone out over the water, and let it drop with barely a splash. Then she climbed back into her car and pulled out of the small parking lot.
She was still debating where she should go when she saw a beige SUV stop at a light two blocks away.
Chapter 4
“Over there!” Owen Werthcamp pointed to the car backing out of a parking lot a couple blocks away.
“Any idea who it is?” Xi Cheng asked, his words precise, his Chinese accent still noticeable even after two decades of living in the United States.
“None,” Owen said as Cheng waited anxiously for the light to turn. “According to my sources, the only person involved with the guardian program besides Martin was Kurt Dorsey.”
The light turned, and Cheng moved forward, trying to weave his way past the handful of pickup trucks and SUVs between him and his objective. “Maybe it was a family member?”
“I checked.” Owen was irritated. “Martin’s wife is dead, and they didn’t have any children.”
“The car we’re following is registered to him,” Cheng pointed out. “It has to either be family or someone on the project.”
“I suggest you speed up so we can figure out exactly who it is.”
“I’m trying.” Cheng increased his speed only to have to hit the brakes a block later when the road took a violent turn to the left. “You try navigating these country roads.”
“Don’t lose him.” Owen’s voice raised in volume, his frustration escalating as the car kept disappearing from their sight with each sharp turn of the road.
* * *
Charlotte took the hairpin turn fast enough that the wheels barely stayed in contact with the pavement. Each time the SUV disappeared from sight, she hoped her speed would cause her pursuer to lose control. Unfortunately, whoever was behind the wheel seemed both experienced and determined.
She thought of the familiar roads and the upcoming intersection, a four-way stop where a neighborhood met a stretch of farmland. The turn to the right included another series of switchbacks and quick turns, but it was uphill, and she didn’t think her car had the power to outrun the vehicle chasing her. The neighborhood only contained a few dozen houses, not exactly providing many places to hide. Going straight would take her to another uphill climb followed by an open stretch of road.
Think, Charlie, she told herself.
A glance in the rearview mirror told her she wasn’t going to be able to keep up this pace for long. Her familiarity helped negate the lack of power in the sedan, but if these guys got her onto the open road, it would only be a matter of time before they would overtake her.
She needed more distance between them and a chance to leave them guessing.
Pressing the gas pedal to the floor, she sped into the next turn. A string of mailboxes on the side of the road gave seed to an idea. Thinking of the various friends and neighbors she had visited over the years, Charlotte visualized those in the area and considered the best location for her plan.
She looked behind her again and saw she’d increased the distance between them a little more. A turn to the right, another to the left, and once again the SUV disappeared from her sight.
She approached the four-way stop, giving a cursory glance to make sure it was clear before blowing through it. She then veered to the right, toward a farm entrance she knew was hidden behind a copse of trees.
After speeding up the driveway, Charlotte slammed on the brakes and came to a stop behind a bluff that rose up between the Carters’ farmhouse on the hill and the road below.
Her heart pounded as she scrambled out of the car and climbed up the little rise to peer at the road a short distance away. Keeping behind a cluster of trees, she watched the SUV come to a stop at the stop sign. With the way the driver hesitated, she suspected he was more concerned with figuring out which way to go than with obeying the local traffic laws.
With the afternoon sun shining brightly, she could see the two men inside clearly now—an Asian man behind the wheel and the man who had shot at her in the passenger’s seat. The redhead looked down as though reading something in his lap and then motioned to the road on their right. Charlotte ducked down as they took the road thirty yards from the driveway where she had parked.
Turning back to look at her car,
she realized they must be tracking the GPS signal on it. Somehow, someone had figured out that Dwight was the mastermind behind the guardians. It wasn’t Kurt’s car that had led these men to the farm. It was her dad’s.
As soon as the SUV disappeared from sight, Charlotte hurried back to the car and grabbed her purse. Remembering all of her parents’ lessons on emergency preparedness, she popped the trunk. The worn leather satchel was the size of a small backpack and was one her mom had bought at an antique store many years ago. She was suddenly grateful she hadn’t followed her dad’s instructions to clean out the car when she had started driving it several months earlier after her own car’s engine had died a quick and sudden death.
Charlotte grabbed the satchel and slammed the trunk closed.
The sound of a vehicle on the road below caught her attention, and Charlotte crept back up to the trees overlooking the intersection. Sure enough, the SUV was stopped below again, the men apparently discussing where to look next. She assumed they knew where her car was and were trying to determine the path to reach her.
Not waiting for them to figure it out, she turned and ran across the driveway toward where she knew she could find another mode of transportation.
* * *
Jake urged his horse onward, desperate to find some kind of release after the confrontation with Kennedy. The presence of his sister should have been a reason to want to stay at the house, but instead, her volatile emotions had sent him looking for an escape. This wasn’t the first time she had stirred up an argument within the family, and he doubted it would be the last. Sometimes he wondered if she liked creating conflict or if she just didn’t know any other way to communicate.
Without realizing where he was going, he rode along the winding trail into the hills, where he had often played and gone swimming in the stream as a boy. He reached the top of a bluff and shifted in the saddle as he stared out over the land that had been in his family for so many generations. He wondered for a moment if any of the other men who shared his name had ever stood on this spot and taken stock of the cattle grazing below.
Failsafe Page 2
