“I’ll concede that point, but if someone were to attack The Pennington Marine Science Center with claims that your research was tainted—that you were providing the public with misinformation—”
“Yeah, I’d be pissed,” he finished.
“Indeed.” A long breath could be heard and then she fell right back into place. “I have had private ventures in the area searching for the Pembrook. They are mingling with local outfits to listen to the gossip and glean any substantial clues.”
“May I point out that the Pembrook went down almost two years ago—?”
“This lawsuit came across my desk only three months ago—” Curbing her agitated lapse, Amanda continued, “If I may proceed—one of these local operations saw the Algonquin several days ago. They also saw it boarded by a military helicopter with a small arsenal of armed men.”
The sound of gunfire that could be heard in the background of Warren’s phone call.
Clutching the arm of his desk chair, Jack leaned forward.
“This all sounds a bit Hollywood and unrealistic.” There was less passion in his dismissal, and more desperation. “Surely if your source is a local outfit, they must have shared their information with others. Hell, that would be bar bait as soon as they came back to port.”
“Yes,” Amanda agreed adroitly. “I imagine it would. However, any contact with this source has now gone unreciprocated and my latest intelligence tells me that this informant has gone off the radar, so to speak.”
Jack’s glance darted across the desk to meet Olivia’s. Hers widened at the connection, but he didn’t believe she could hear the conversation. Regardless, she picked up on his vibe and clutched her hands between her knees and started to bounce them nervously.
“Alright,” Jack regained his composure. “So when you first called me, you knew I wouldn’t connect you with Warren. You were just trying to fish for information−to see if I revealed where he was, or what he found?”
Olivia glared, hearing this end of the conversation.
“I won’t waste our time by denying that,” Amanda admitted. “And I hope you won’t waste our time denying what your uncle located. It is my belief that there is an influential cover-up taking place−a dangerous one. And I believe that you are in danger as well.”
“I fail to see how my safety would be of your concern−”
“It’s my concern because I need you. I need you to locate your uncle and determine whether or not he discovered the wreckage of the Eclipse ship.”
Jack sagged back against the chair. “That’s all you care about−saving your company’s ass? My uncle could be dead.”
Olivia settled her thigh across the corner of his desk. Her hand landed inches from his as she leaned in with a repugnant look on her face.
“Maybe saving my company’s ass will ultimately save lives. This time it was your uncle. Who will it be next?” The soft British lilt questioned. “Whoever this group is, they can’t silence everyone who travels along the North Atlantic.”
A motion on the corner of his desk caught his attention. Olivia pointed at the monitor. Two dark sedans were pulling through the front gate of the complex.
“I don’t have time for this,” Jack announced.
His heart demanded that he turn this over to the feds. His gut felt like it was losing a bout with acid reflux.
“Look,” A tinge of urgency had woven into Amanda Newton’s composure. “I can’t get to you yet, but I am sending someone there. Someone who can help.”
The emphasis on the word, help, was a curious one, but Jack was already distracted with the need to get upstairs.
“Fine. Whatever. This will all be cleared up here shortly. I am sure the authorities will locate Warren given their resources.”
A swift intake of breath and then Amanda whispered, “Don’t trust anyone.”
“Don’t trust anyone,” Warren whispered.
“Oh, I’ll be sure to heed your advice on that, Ms. Newton. Good luck with your lawsuit.”
Jack snapped the phone off, cursing at it. He noticed the pulsing red light again and hauled the mouse off its pad, hastily drawing up a program on the computer.
“Jack, they’re here.” Olivia was already in the doorway.
“I know.” He continued typing even as he rose. “I just want to check one thing real quick.”
“I can run up there while you finish.”
“Whoa−Olivia, wait!”
Startled by his cry, Olivia snapped back into his office, her head cocked as she searched his face.
“What?”
“That red light on the bottom monitor.” He pointed at the wall.
“Yes?”
Still not believing what the software revealed, he took a deep breath and uttered, “It’s a signal from the Algonquin.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jack emerged from behind the desk and Livvy launched forward, lacing her arms around his neck. It was impossible to ignore that brief glimmer of anticipation on his face. She knew what that flashing signal represented. Hope. Above all, it represented hope, and she wanted to share in that prospect.
How many nights had she prayed for a signal−a small blinking red light−?
His arms slipped around her back and he hauled her tight into that embrace. It wasn’t a sexual exchange. It was more. It was a transfer of faith.
For too long she had received tepid hugs and consolatory pats on the back. This embrace was not laced with platitudes. The arms that locked around her were solid and assuring.
For a moment his head dipped into the crook of her neck. He remained there, breathing her in. It felt so good to be wanted like this.
“We have to get upstairs,” he declared huskily. “As soon as we’re through with the FBI I’ll come back and track this signal.”
I’ll come back. Not we’ll.
Why should that concern her? Why did the notion of not joining in on his search disturb her? He was sending her off with the FBI to ensure that she was safe. And that’s what she wanted—to go home—to return to normalcy.
The truth is that I wanted to kiss you.
“But—”
“Come on.” He cupped a hand around her elbow, urging her towards the door. “I want you out of danger. That’s the first priority.” Hesitating, he turned back to his desk, bending over to open a drawer. When he stood up he possessed the gun that she had loaded in the Jeep.
Reading her expression, he remarked, “Precaution. What if someone else is waiting in the parking lot to ambush the FBI? We still don’t know what we’re dealing with here.”
Livvy trembled. “I’m pretty sure the FBI will be armed and prepared for any confrontations.”
“They would be cautious if they took me seriously. So far I’m not sure they do.”
Glancing edgily at the gun, and then up at his degree on the wall, she asked, “Did they teach you how to fire that in Marine Sciences?”
A dimple grooved into his cheek. “Flare guns.”
Livvy snorted. “I could shoot a flare gun. I can’t shoot that.”
“I’ve had some military training, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Mulling that over, she managed a small, “Oh.”
The declaration incited more questions, and as she gazed out into the hall, she suddenly felt nervous about ascending to the light of day.
Reading her frown, Jack’s strained features eased. Rounding the desk he stopped before her, settling the gun atop the desk. Reaching up he dusted his knuckle across her cheek, his thumb catching a strand of hair and toying with it.
“They will probably take you away,” he murmured huskily. “They may even bring you home tonight if they feel that it’s safe.” His thumb traveled down to her jaw. “Either way—I want to call you later—to make sure that you’re okay,” he hesitated, “if that’s alright with you.”
Livvy’s head bobbed numbly.
A shrill beep emitted from the console on Jack’s desk.
“Is t
hat the doorbell?” she asked, clearing her throat and pinning her shoulders back.
Jack’s grin was short-lived. “More of an alarm. It lets me know they’ve reached the front entrance.”
Following him toward the elevator, she asked, “Does that alarm go off every time someone steps up to the front door? Don’t you have tourists, students? Doesn’t it drive you crazy?”
He paused until she was at his side. “I turn it off during the weekdays.”
“Did you design the security system in here?” Cameras embedded in the ceiling of the elevator cast back caricatures of herself.
“Yes. Mostly.”
Stealing a quick glimpse at the man with ruffled dark hair, steely eyes, and commanding grip of his weapon, she murmured, “Well, you sure aren’t what I originally pegged you as.”
Ding. The elevator opened to the main lobby as Jack slanted a reply. “Neither are you.”
There was no time to ask what he had pegged her for. Outside the glass wall stood two men in suits. They wore sunglasses and each had a hand tucked under the lapels of his jacket. What were they rummaging for−identification−a gun−lunch?
The clash of their dark figures against the backdrop of sun jogged a vision of the man that attacked her. Thank God these were the good guys.
Jack had tucked the gun away in the small of his back on the elevator ride up. He stepped up to a security console mounted inside the door and commanded, “ID.”
Badges were produced. Laminated cards with the FBI insignia. Olivia breathed slightly easier.
Jack leaned towards the speaker again and said, “Agent Scholtz told me that he was sending Special Agent Morse. Neither of your cards say Morse.”
The shorter of the two dark-suited men stepped closer to the speaker panel. He peered through the glass, but his eyes were concealed behind the reflective lenses. Offering a perfunctory nod, he didn’t smile. Did the FBI ever smile?
“Agent Morse was called onto another case. I can assure you that Agent Henderson and I are fully capable of taking your statement.”
“Very good.” Jack’s shoulders relaxed. “Just give me a second. The security panel to unlock the front door is over there.” He pointed to a panel nestled between two potted trees on the far side of the lobby.
Another brief nod from the agent and Jack turned away, whispering softly, “Follow me, Olivia.”
Curious about his demeanor, Livvy trailed after him.
Tapping a few buttons, he stared at the console and murmured out of the corner of his mouth. “When that elevator door opens get in it as fast as you can. As fast as you can.”
Her stomach lurched, but she dared not speak. His grave command said it all. Had he seen someone outside? Someone in hiding? Someone with a gun?
Tempted to glance back over her shoulder, instead she caught the shadowy reflections of the two agents off the shiny marble wall. They moved in towards the front door, awaiting entry.
A soft hiss and the elevator door slid open.
As fast as you can.
Livvy sprinted into the chamber just as the first bullet shattered the glass wall.
As the elevator doors began to slide closed she reached her hand out to stop them.
“Jack!” she screamed. “Get in.”
Although she could not see it, she heard another round of gunshots and several guttural shouts.
“Olivia!” Jack’s voice hollered. “Close the door. Dammit, close the door!”
“Get in here,” she cried again, her bicep quaking with effort.
“Let it go, Olivia,” he demanded.
The clamor of crashing glass resonated, and then she heard him shout, “What the f—” but the machine finally won the arm wrestling battle. The heavy door rumbled closed, locking her in obscurity.
***
Jack lunged behind the potted tree. Chaos unfolded at the front entrance—chaos that he could now concentrate on as the elevator doors snapped closed. With bullets blasting through the glass façade, he feared the worst. What if one had slipped through the gap in that hitching door and struck Olivia? There was no waiver in her voice to indicate injury−just the tremulous sound of fear.
He had identified the FBI agents as imposters with the mention of Agent Scholtz, a false name produced as a last-minute test. As soon as the frauds caught the motion of Olivia launching into the elevator they drew weapons and blasted through the glass.
With that garish crash, a desperate thought filled his mind when he raised his gun.
What if she didn’t load this right?
Preparing to return fire, he noticed the two agents drop down, hunkering into crouched positions. One grew assertive and used his shoulder to slam the shattered glass. It offered a gap large enough to step through without getting cut.
As Jack’s finger landed on the trigger, the aggressive agent fell onto his side, motionless. Astonished, Jack stared at his hand. What the f−? He swore he hadn’t pulled the trigger.
There was no time to dwell. Agent number two stuck his leg through the vacant bulwark. The muzzle of his semi sought out Jack’s spot of refuge.
Aiming around the balmy Ficus fronds, Jack watched in shock as the next agent fell lifeless to the ground.
Peering through the leaves he finally glimpsed a stranger advancing across the parking lot with his gun extended. As the intruder neared the building, he divided his aim between the two fallen agents.
Casting an anxious glance at the elevator, Jack wished that he could get to Olivia. What if she was wounded? Instead, he hunkered down and took aim, awaiting the arrival of this new adversary.
The man paused at the body of the first agent, stooping to extract the gun from his hand. He then took a few cautious steps to the left and crouched to retrieve the weapon from body number two.
As the man stood, he eyed the broken glass while pocketing the two guns inside his denim jacket. The third gun he raised in the air, his fingers splayed in submission.
“I’m not with them,” he called out.
Yeah, like hell.
“Fine,” Jack yelled. “Then you won’t mind tossing those three guns across the lobby floor.”
With the sun casting the tall profile in shadow, Jack could only make out a military physique. Muscular and edgy, unlike the lanky figures on the ground. That didn’t bode well. Trained assassin? Someone hired to do the dirty work when the others failed?
Why kill them though?
All these thoughts roiled through his head as the man stuck his leg across the barrier of the shattered wall. Agilely dropping the gun to the ground, he used the tip of his boot to kick it across the marble floor. He repeated the motion with the remaining two weapons.
“I’m here to help,” he declared.
Jack stepped out into the middle of the floor with his Glock raised. “Right. And I should believe that when I have two dead men on my doorstep.”
A grin−or a flinch−it was hard to tell, crossed the man’s stark face.
“They’re not dead,” he vowed. “My boss won’t let me use real bullets.”
Jack’s gaze vaulted to the two crumpled figures. Indeed, their chests were moving.
“And your boss is−?”
With his hands still extended in submission the man calmly announced, “Amanda Newton.”
Amanda Newton?
“The British woman?”
Wide shoulders shrugged. “Yes. I am contracted by BLUE-LINK’s security team. I was directed to come here and assist you. She felt you might be in danger.”
“Yes, so she said,” Jack muttered.
“I’ve never met the woman in person,” the man confessed, “but from what I’ve been told, she is seldom wrong.”
Refusing to lower his weapon Jack tipped his head towards the false agents on the ground. “Do you know them?”
Glancing over his shoulder, the brawny figure shrugged. “Not at all. I just pulled into the lot when I heard gunfire. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting action like this. I t
hought I was being sent on a babysitting job.”
Olivia. Jack needed to make sure she was safe. And he needed to get the GPS coordinates of that signal.
“So what did you do to them?” he asked, already back-stepping towards the elevator.
“Tranquilizers. They’ll be out for awhile, but probably not long enough. I’ll tie them up. I have bungee cords in my trunk.”
Of course you do.
“I get that you don’t believe me,” the man acknowledged. “In your position I would feel the same way. Why don’t you call Amanda?”
“You just said she’s never met you.”
“True. But she knows my name. She has my picture on file.”
There was no time for this crap. He needed to get downstairs, but he also didn’t want to get shot in the back while doing so.
“You expect that I trust this BLUE-LINK−this Amanda Newton. I don’t know who the hell they are or what they want from me. She calls with some bullshit story about a lawsuit while my uncle is missing at the hands of assholes like this.” His hand flung in an arc over the inert figures. “Amanda Newton told me not to trust anyone−well I hate to clue her in, but she’s right on top of the list.”
The man eased his arms down, asking quickly, “May I?”
Still targeting the stranger’s chest in his crosshairs, Jack nodded.
Slowly those thick arms dropped and he offered a bemused smile on a barren face.
“Like I said. I understand your point of view. All I can tell you is that BLUE-LINK is legit. Hell, they’re my employer. I had some pretty damn credible resources check them out before I took up employment with them. And if someone is suing them, from what I know of Amanda Newton, she will move heaven and earth to see that the BLUE-LINK name is not tarnished.”
He paused and added, “My name is Ray. Ray Gordon. Seriously, I’ve been sent here to help.” He used his foot and swept aside some of the broken glass, “So what do you want me to do?”
Jack glanced from the tall guy in the black t-shirt and denim jacket to the suited men on the ground.
“Well, if you have that bungee cord out in the car you can tie them up and call the police, or Amanda Newton, or whoever you need to call to get them off my doorstep discreetly. Also, if you have free time after that, you can call a glazier to repair this wall.”
Mist Page 10
