by Steven James
“We can show you if you have your laptop,” Fionna said.
He lifted his briefcase. “I do.”
“Good.” She pulled the USB drive out of her purse. “Let’s get started.”
Charlene walked up the path to Dr. Schatzing’s house, repositioned the strap on her dress, then knocked and waited for him to answer.
She could hear movement on the other side of the door. At last it swung open and a man faced her. Early fifties, a little overweight. An overly serious face. “Hello?”
“Hi.” She smiled flirtatiously. “I’m the girl you called for.”
He let his gaze slide all the way down her body and then slowly make its way back up until he was looking her in the eye again.
“You’re early.”
“Bonus time. For being a faithful client.”
“I asked for Jewel.”
“Jewel’s not feeling well.” She shifted her weight, swiveling her hips. “If you don’t like what you see, I can always . . .”
“What’s your name?”
She went with a shortened version of her real name. “Charli.”
“Is that your real name?”
She bit her lip shyly. “We’re not supposed to give our real names.”
“Ah.”
“And your name?”
“Donald.”
“Real name?”
He hesitated, let his eyes crawl down her again. Though she’d expected him to look at her like this, it still made her feel used by him.
The doctor stepped aside. “Come on in.”
She joined him in the living room, and he shut the door behind her.
Okay, now that she was inside she needed to offer him the truth—that she wasn’t really from the agency but was here to find out what he might know about her friend’s murder.
Tell him, Charlene. Just explain it; tell him what you really want.
But she felt nervous, uneasy, unsure how to shift to the topic of Emilio.
Collect your thoughts, Charlene. You need to—
“May I use your bathroom? Freshen up for a moment?”
“Of course.” He pointed down the hall to a door near the base of the stairs leading to the second floor. “Would you like a drink?”
“What are you having?”
“Bourbon.”
“Bourbon, then.”
Derek stood beside Calista, whose face was twisted in pain.
It might take awhile for her to die; he didn’t know, he’d never killed anyone this way before.
He nudged her with his toe as he phoned Garcia. “The engineer is a no-go.”
“What? You led me to believe that—”
“I know. And you said you’d take care of Banks and Antioch. What did you have in mind, exactly?”
Garcia told him.
“Do it,” Derek said. “We can still make this happen tonight.”
Charlene stared at her reflection in the mirror.
You should have just told him at the door who you are. What are you doing? The longer you wait, the harder this is going to be!
She took a deep breath, tried to center herself, then left the bathroom, rehearsing in her mind what she was going to say: “There’s a friend of mine that you knew. Emilio Benigno. He’s . . .”
No, you need to start out telling him who you are. The worst he can do is kick you out of the house.
“Listen, I’m not really who I said I was. I’m not really from the agency . . .”
That’s what you need to say.
Charlene was at the base of the stairs when she heard the dull thud of something heavy landing on the floor in the kitchen and the simultaneous shattering of glass. As she was about to call out to see if Dr. Schatzing was okay, she heard a voice that was not his. “Find her. Go.”
Oh.
Not good.
It’s the people who had Emilio killed! The ones behind everything! It has to be!
You can’t let them catch you. You can’t—
If there were people in the kitchen, she would never be able to sneak past them to the front door. The only other choice was running up the stairs beside her.
She peeled off her high heels and, holding them, bolted up the staircase, trying to be as silent as possible.
If Jevin were here he would probably fight whoever was down there. But that was Jevin. Most of the time she could take care of herself, but she couldn’t imagine fighting off more than one person.
However, she did have another gift, a well-practiced skill that she’d honed over the years—fitting in trunks, small cages, and hidden compartments. She could hide in spaces people would swear no woman could ever fit inside.
“I got the upstairs,” another voice said.
Go, hurry!
As soundlessly as possible she started down the hall, then stopped in midstride.
Above her was the trapdoor to the attic. A string that would trigger the release mechanism was tucked up in the crack beside it.
Gun in hand, the first man edged up the stairs. As he moved in to cover the hallway, he saw a string hanging down from the door to the attic.
It was swinging.
Charlene scrunched up as small as she could in the dark. This wasn’t ideal, not ideal at all, but it would have to work. She just needed to wait long enough until they were distracted and she could slip away.
A ladder unfolded when he pulled the string.
Leveling his gun in front of him, he ascended the steps.
Before emerging through the hole at the top, he took a small breath to steady himself, then eased up and peered around the attic.
In the light that snuck up around him from the hallway and that crept in through the small window on the wall in front of him, he could make out shapes in the darkness.
The place was filled with boxes and crates.
He turned in a slow circle, trying to take everything in.
No movement.
He climbed all the way up and began checking every hiding place he could find.
Fionna explained what was on the drive as Lonnie navigated through the files using Agent Ratchford’s computer.
The agent paid close attention, then finally said, “I’m primarily interested in Akinsanya. We have reason to believe that he might be in the greater Las Vegas area. Are you sure there isn’t anything else you can tell me that might help us track him down?”
Fionna wasn’t sure she should reveal any information about Jevin and Xavier being at Area 51, but she did connect the dots for Ratchford between RixoTray and Dr. Turnisen by showing him the photo of Emilio and Tim that Jevin had sent to her.
That seemed to spark his curiosity. “And do we know where this Dr. Turnisen is?”
Fionna shook her head. “I’m not sure. We haven’t tried to contact him.”
Agent Ratchford produced his phone. “Give me a minute. I’ll find him. At least my people are good at one thing.”
Nothing in the attic.
He’d searched the entire place and was on his way to the steps that led back to the hallway when he paused.
One of the trunks was large enough.
Yeah, it was possible.
He turned toward it, unlatched the clasp, and flipped open the lid.
Empty.
When Charlene had grabbed the string for the attic door and swung it, then hurried to the bedroom at the end of the hall, she’d been hoping that both men would go up there looking for her.
But that’s not how things had played out.
There was just one set of footsteps above her in the attic.
One set.
He found the swinging string. Once he sees you’re not in the attic, they’re going to know you’re up here somewhere. They will find you.
She peered out the window.
It was a two-story drop.
There was a pool filled with water and covered with a plastic tarp. However, it wasn’t directly below the window, and even if she jumped out as far she could, she didn’t think s
he’d make it to the water’s edge.
The only other choice was the hallway, but if she went out there they’d catch her immediately.
Hide. You have to hide.
She scanned the room.
In the closet? Under the bed? Behind the dresser?
All too obvious.
If she could duck into another room, maybe she could fit under the sink in the bathroom, maybe—
Heavy steps on the staircase told her that the second guy was on his way up.
No, please, no!
“She’s up here somewhere!” one of the men cried. “We got her.”
Jump. You have to jump.
She went back to the window and threw it open.
The cool air swirled in around her.
No, the pool’s too far; you’ll never make it.
The door behind her crashed open. “Do not move! I will shoot you!”
She gripped the windowsill. Didn’t turn around to look at him.
You have to get out of here. They’ll kill you!
“Step away from the window.”
She eyed the pool, calculated if it was possible to—
“I said, get back from the window.”
But she didn’t step back.
Instead, she leapt into the night.
The Fear of Dying
Charlene smacked onto the plastic tarp but wrenched her ankle against the side of the pool as she did.
The tarp swallowed her up, wrapping tightly around her, sucking her under.
From the water escapes she’d done over the years, she knew she just needed to relax, focus, move slowly. But as she tried to free her arms, her legs, kick to the surface, the plastic held her fast.
Easy, Charlene. Don’t panic!
For certain effects, she needed to be able to hold her breath for two and a half minutes, but tonight the issue was getting untangled from the plastic that was keeping her from the surface. And she hadn’t gotten much air before plunging under the water.
She tried to be still to let the plastic float away from her, but that did nothing to free her.
Easy.
Take it easy.
You need to get out of here.
Calming herself and shutting out the panic, she extended her arms slowly and rotated to the left, toward the top of the pool.
She sensed that the plastic was parting. By gently spinning a little more, she was finally able to ease the plastic aside and make it to the water’s surface.
She grabbed a breath and headed for the side of the pool. Heaving herself out, she stood and almost toppled backward as she put pressure on her injured ankle.
No! You have to run!
A police car was sitting next to the curb.
Awkwardly, painfully, she hobbled toward it but found it empty.
“Ma’am?” a voice behind her called. “Are you alright?”
Heart hammering in her chest, she turned and saw a police officer walking her way.
“There are two men,” she gasped, “they’re trying to—”
And then she saw the second officer leave the house.
No, they were the—
The officer who was closest to her spoke softly. “I’m going to need you to climb inside the car now, Miss Antioch. I know it’s no Aston Martin, but it’s gonna have to do for tonight.”
The two men converged on her, and though she desperately tried to fight them off, it was only a matter of seconds before they had her cuffed and locked in the back of their patrol car.
Officers Gordon Shepard and Ron Ledger climbed into the squad, and Gordon made the call. “We’ve got her. We’re bringing her in.”
“Good.”
“What about Schatzing? Do you want us to take care of him too?”
“Is he dead?”
“Naw. But he was bleeding pretty bad there on the floor.”
“Leave him. All we really need right now is the woman.”
Calista thought only of death.
Derek had left her tied up on the floor with Dr. Malhotra watching over her and the unconscious engineer, who was lying on the bed on the other end of the honeymoon suite.
Thoughts of growing old, something she would never do now, filled her head. Images of sunsets and oceans, of mountains and beaches, of children laughing, of herself in the mirror, wrinkled and spent with the years, but smiling. She would never experience any of that.
Never experience anything except this room.
Maybe she didn’t fear growing old more than dying.
Maybe she did fear dying most of all.
Hearing footsteps, she turned and saw the doctor on his way toward her.
He leaned close enough for her to smell his stale breath. “Don’t worry. If you survive I’ll make sure what’s left of you goes to good use. I’ve been looking for a new volunteer to take Thad’s place. You’re already familiar with the program, you’ll be perfect.”
She prayed she would die quickly, before Malhotra could sever her spinal column and paralyze her from the neck down.
But she was not confident that this prayer was one that was going to be answered.
The Offer
8:06 p.m.
40 minutes left
My phone rings. Charlene’s photo comes up on the screen. “Charlene, hey, what’s—”
“Mr. Banks?” It’s a man’s voice. “Jevin Banks?”
“Who is this?”
“Akinsanya.”
It feels like a clamp is squeezing around my heart.
He’s calling on Charlene’s phone!
He—
“We have Miss Antioch. She’s right here with me now. Would you like to speak with her?”
I feel my left hand form a white-knuckled grip around the steering wheel. “Yes.”
A moment, and then, “Jevin! I’m at the Arête. Call the—”
Her voice becomes faint as she cries out “police!” and Akinsanya’s voice comes back on the line again. “You have something I want.”
“What?”
“The launch codes.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know you were at the base.”
“I don’t know anything about any launch codes.”
“You have the USB drive.”
“Yes, but it didn’t have any launch codes.”
“I hope, for Miss Antioch’s sake, that it did.”
Play this right, Jevin. Buy some time!
“Okay. Alright. I’ll give them to you. But not over the phone. I need to see her, we do it in person.”
Silence. “I’ll call you back and give you a location. Until then, do not contact the authorities. I’ll know if you do. And I will not hesitate to hurt Miss Antioch in even worse ways than you can imagine.”
The line goes dead.
Xavier only heard my side of the conversation, but that’s enough for him to piece things together. “They got Charlene and they want the launch codes?”
“It was Akinsanya.”
“What?”
“With Turnisen’s involvement and the test schedule, I can only guess the codes are for those drones, for tonight.”
“They’re armed.”
“Yes, they are.”
“Jev, even if you had the codes you can’t give them to him. You know that, right?”
I’m quiet.
“Buddy, there’s no telling what he might use that drone for. If there’s even a chance that he could fire one of the—”
“This is Charlene we’re talking about.”
“I know. But you could also be talking about the lives of hundreds or even thousands of people.”
I don’t know what to say. I have nothing to say. “What if it was Fionna and her kids who were in danger?”
“It might be. We don’t know.”
He’s right. We don’t know. Before you make any decision, you need to find out where that drone is heading, what they’re planning to do with it.
Xavier puts a hand on my arm. “Hey, we
’re gonna get her back, alright?”
“Yeah.”
“Should I call Ratchford?”
“No. We can’t contact the authorities. Akinsanya said he’d know if we did, and I believe him. We need to figure out what the launch codes are—so at least we have something to negotiate with.”
“How?”
“Let’s start with Fred, see what he can find out. Maybe he can get back in the building. Maybe his people can locate the codes.”
“Jevin, I don’t think that—”
“We have to come up with something, Xav—before we get to Vegas. This is Akinsanya we’re talking about. He will kill her. You know that. If we don’t get him what he wants.”
He quietly taps the dashboard, thinking, then lifts his cell and puts the call through.
Fred doesn’t answer.
As Xavier leaves a voicemail for him to call us back, I try to think of a way to bluff my way through saving Charlene’s life.
While Agent Clay Ratchford waited for his people to contact him with the trace on Turnisen’s phone location and credit card usage, he watched Lonnie work his magic on the laptop.
Obscure computer code scrolled across the screen, and Clay couldn’t help but think of The Matrix.
This kid was amazing.
He couldn’t help but wonder how good the person was who’d taught him—his mom.
When his phone rang he picked up.
And got the news: Turnisen was staying here at the Arête. His Visa card had been used to reserve a room earlier this evening.
Clay stood.
“What is it?” Fionna asked.
“Turnisen. You stay here with your kids. I’ll be back.”
And he strode briskly toward the reception desk to get Turnisen’s room number.
We hear from Fred.
No, he can’t get back into the building.
No, he has no idea what the launch codes might be.
And no, his contacts would never be able to find them out, at least not tonight before the test flight.
I try to keep the speed down on the drive back to Vegas, but it’s not easy. Still no word from Akinsanya about a meeting place.
He has Charlene.
