Dark Trojan (The Adam Drake series Book 3)

by Scott Matthews

“The sooner, the better. She’s in Los Angeles finishing a photo shoot on the Queen Mary. I’ll get you the details in time for you to plan something for this weekend. Can you arrange it by then?”

  “That’s the day after tomorrow!” Canaan exclaimed. “I’d better get going. I’ll be at EIS until six or so. I’ll start making arrangements as soon as I get off work. Use my email and send me as much information about her as you can by the time I get to the condo.”

  Walker led Canaan out of the IT manager’s office and nodded to his bodyguard to escort the younger man out. As much as Canaan wanted to claim the kill, Walker knew he was no match for Adriana Hermann. When Canaan failed to kill her, as he surely would, based on what Walker knew of her extraordinary skills, she would know who was responsible for the attempt and come after him. That was not something he wanted to worry about.

  Chapter 34

  After Larry Green left Mike Casey’s hospital room to arrange for the security video from the Marriott to be sent to DHS, Drake waited beside his friend’s bed and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest.

  As long as he’d known Casey, from the days in Iraq when he had first teamed up with the tall, gangly sniper from Montana until now, he had never seen him unconscious or injured in any way. There had been plenty of opportunities for him to take an injury, but he always landed on his feet. He was like the solid, steady, fifth-year senior who never missed a game in his college basketball career.

  Seeing him lying in a hospital bed now, on a ventilator, Drake was feeling injured himself, knowing it was because of him. He didn’t understand why yet, but he thought Detective Cabrillo was probably right. He had been the target twice in the last two days. Now he had to consider the possibility that it might involve an old enemy from the Middle East.

  Mike, he thought as he stared at his friend, I need you to wake up, buddy. You’re good at helping me work through things. Your wife is going to figure it out that this is my fault, and I’m not going to know what to tell her. I need you to be able to think things out while I watch you eat, which happens a lot because you’re always eating, and it gives me some quiet time to think. Not that I don’t like it when you crack one of your dumb jokes, trying to get me loosen up, ’cause I do. I just don’t always get your jokes. And I’m not being critical of you eating all the time. You burn calories at such a rate you can eat all day and never gain any weight. I’ll bet your wife wishes she could eat as much as you eat. Now I’m not saying that Megan needs to watch her weight, just that we all marvel at the way you can put it away. And your kids are just like you. Lean. I started to say “lean and mean,” but that’s not what I meant, Your kids are great and it’s an honor to be called Uncle Adam. I promise I’ll get up to Seattle more often to see them…well, once my life settles down and I can get back in a routine. It’s been rough since Kay died a year ago, but I know you know that. I’m not using that as an excuse. I’ve just been in a bit of a fog, trying to figure out what I’m doing with my life. I had it all planned out when I married Kay. Kids, life on the farm, restoring the old vineyard, my law practice.

  I wish I’d settled down sooner like you did. You’ve got a great wife and kids who are always waiting for you, so don’t mess things up this afternoon and do something stupid like die when they bring you out of the coma. Larry Green is here to help Megan get you home, so don’t worry about that. The doc hasn’t told me how you’ll feel when the paralysis wears off, but I’m counting on you being fine. You’ll be fine, Mike. I know that. If you aren’t, I’ll be there to help you if you need help. Like you’re always there to help me. I probably should have told you sooner that I think of you as my brother. Not just because we were in the sandbox together. You’re my best fr—

  “Did you say something?” Green asked as he walked into Casey’s room.

  “Sorry,” Drake said as he rubbed his eyes before he stood up and stretched. “I must have been thinking out loud.”

  “I spoke with the head of security at the Marriott. He’s sending the security surveillance video to Liz Strobel for us.”

  “Thanks, Larry. Let’s hope the FBI’s recognition system is as good as they say it is. If we can find the woman who poisoned Mike, maybe we can figure out what’s going on. Did you get ahold of Megan before she left Seattle?”

  “She was at the airport when I called. I offered to pick her up when she arrives, but she said she’d take a cab. She doesn’t want Mike left alone.”

  “Damn it,” Drake said, shaking his head, “since the detective said he thought I was the target, not Mike, I haven’t thought about making sure he was protected. He can identify his attacker when he wakes up. She might want to make sure he doesn’t.”

  “I’ll get someone from our LA office up here to stand guard. Any idea how long Mike’s going to be here?”

  “We won’t know until he’s brought out of his coma,” Drake said. “I better let my office know I’ll be here a little longer, too. I have a feeling my consulting job here isn’t gonna be done until I find out who sent the lady with the poison dart.”

  Chapter 35

  Megan Casey, accompanied by her husband’s brother, Philip Casey arrived at the hospital at one o’clock. She maintained her composure out in hall as she introduced her brother-in-law to Drake and Larry Green, and then she entered the hospital room to kiss her husband’s forehead and stand holding his hand as she cried. When she came out of the room, she marched past the three men to a nurse and asked to see Dr. Jessica Martin as soon as possible. She stayed at the nurses station, watching the men from a distance.

  “How’s she doing?” Drake asked Philip Casey.

  “Scared to death. But she’s keeping it together. She a nurse, so she knows how curare is used as an anesthetic. She’s scared because Mike should be breathing on his own by now.”

  “Mike’s doctor says the synthetic curare on the dart that hit him is curare on steroids,” Drake said. “But she also says he’ll be okay. His recovery is just taking longer that she expected.”

  “Let’s hope she’s right. What the hell happened?”

  “We don’t know. Mike confronted a woman apparently trying to pick the key card lock on my door at the Marriott. He backed away, but she shot him anyway.”

  “So this didn’t really have anything to with Mike?”

  “She was probably coming for me. I don’t have a clue why.”

  “That’s good news, I suppose, for Mike. Not so much for you, though. Have you told this to Megan?”

  Drake shook his head. “Not yet. I haven’t had time.”

  “Well, she may or may not be relieved. She’s pretty insistent that he leave the field work to guys like Larry and the others. They had quite a spat when he helped you with that assassin thing last month.”

  “Thanks for the heads up, Phil,” Drake said. “Mike didn’t mention it.”

  Drake nodded toward the nurses station. They could see that Dr. Martin had her hand on Megan’s shoulder and was talking to her. Together, the two women turned and walked their way.

  “Gentlemen,” Dr. Martin said brightly, “let’s see if Mr. Casey is ready to join us.” She led them into the room.

  It took under ten minutes for the first sign to show them that her patient was coming out of his coma.

  “As I told Mrs. Casey,” Dr. Martin explained as she closely monitored his progress, “I didn’t induce a coma because I felt that his brain needed to rest due to oxygen deprivation. Mr. Drake got CPR started almost immediately. I induced the coma because the breathing tube is irritating and the coma makes it a little easier to tolerate.”

  When Mike Casey’s eyes opened, he seemed surprised to see all the people standing around his bed.

  The doctor leaned down to him. “Mr. Casey, I’m Dr. Jessica Martin,” she said. “I want you to relax. You have a breathing tube down your throat, so I don’t want you to talk right now. I want you to squee
ze my hand. Can you do that for me?”

  When Mike blinked once and tentatively squeezed her hand, Dr. Martin moved around his bed and asked him to do the same thing with his other hand. She then moved to the foot of the bed and had him push against her hand with both of his feet.

  “That’s good, Mr. Casey,” she said. “I want you rest now for a little longer, and then we’ll see if you’re ready to get that breathing tube out. I know that will make you happy.”

  Then she turned to the others and said, “The paralysis is not as profound, but his responses are still weak. We’ll see how he’s doing in a couple of hours. He’ll enjoy having you beside him, Mrs. Casey. You may tell him as much as you want about what happened, but he might not understand what you’re telling him. Just let him know everything will be okay in time.”

  As Dr. Martin smiled at her patient and left the room, Megan Casey moved to her husband’s side and began to reassure him that everything was going to be okay.

  Drake followed the doctor and caught up with her at the nurses station. “Dr. Martin,” he said as she interrupted her charting to look up at him, “does the lab analysis of the curare Mike was poisoned with explain why it’s taking so long for him to recover?”

  “We don’t have the expertise to determine that,” she said, “but I sent a sample to the toxicology lab at the California Department of Justice. I’m waiting for the results.”

  “Will those results tell us anything about who produced the poison?”

  “I doubt it, but we might get lucky. Detective Cabrillo asked me the same thing. Check with him in a day or so. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to finish Mr. Casey’s chart and see my other patients.”

  Drake returned to Casey’s room.

  “Megan,” he said softly, “I’m so sorry.”

  She didn’t know whether to be pleased or angry. “If I hadn’t insisted that he go out for an Irish coffee with you, Adam, he wouldn’t be here. So it’s not your fault.”

  “Yes, it is. She…that woman, was trying to get into my room.”

  “He’s squeezing my hand, Adam. I’m guessing he’s wanting you to stop blaming yourself. I’m also guessing he’s saying you owe him an Irish coffee.” They both saw her husband’s nod of agreement.

  Drake smiled at his friend and put his arm around Megan’s shoulders. “I figured you’d find a way to work nourishment into my obligation column,” he said. “Mike, you hurry up and get out of here, and I’ll take you both to the Buena Vista for all the Irish coffees you can drink.”

  After calling the Marriott and reserving rooms for Megan and Mike’s brother and making sure Larry Green had taken care of providing protection for Casey, Drake returned to his hotel to find out what his father-in-law knew about an Iranian threat to attack America’s energy grid.

  Chapter 36

  Senator Hazelton was still in his office on the third floor of the Hart Senate Office Building when he took the call from his son-in-law.

  “Senator,” Drake began, “do you have a moment?”

  “Certainly, Adam. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, sir. How’s Mom?”

  “She’s fine, we’re both fine. When do we get to see you again?”

  “Soon, I hope,” Drake said. “I’m in San Francisco now. That’s what I need to talk to you about. I seem to have stepped into a pile of dog doo. Two people have been killed and someone poisoned my friend, Mike Casey. It looks as if the poison was really meant for me.”

  “Is Mike okay?” the senator asked.

  “His doctor says he should make a full recovery.”

  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” The senator paused, then asked, “Does this in any way involve the company I asked Secretary Rallings have you visit?”

  “I think so, but I don’t how. The reason I called is Liz Strobel said there’s intelligence that Iran is planning a cyber attack on our energy grid. Have you heard the same thing?”

  Drake waited for the senator to answer. He knew that the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence was regularly briefed by the country’s intelligence apparatus. The senator should therefore know what DHS knew. He also knew the senator would be very careful about what was said over an open phone line.

  “It’s possible, I suppose,” he finally said. “We have openly blamed Iran for the cyber attacks on U.S. banks, which were understood to be retaliation for the cyber attacks on Iran’s nuclear program. The mullahs assumed we assisted Israel with those attacks.” He smoothly changed the subject. “By the way, have you seen Liz recently?”

  “Not for a while. Why?”

  “Next time you see her, ask her about changes at DHS. I’ll keep my ears open here and let you know if I hear anything new about threats from Iran. Adam, I’ve got to run. I hope we get to see you soon.” And with that, the senator ended the call.

  Drake leaned back in his chair and stared at the screen of his cell phone that showed the call had indeed ended. He couldn’t remember a conversation he’d ever had with the senator that had ended so abruptly. The brush-off he’d just received wasn’t the way he was used to being treated. And why would he want to talk with Liz Strobel about changes at the Department of Homeland Security?

  He was still puzzling over his call to the senator when he got back to the hospital and found Dr. Martin directing the removal of Casey’s breathing tube.

  The breathing tube being pulled out of Casey’s throat was at least three feet long, and as soon as it was out, he was given oxygen through the soft plastic prongs placed inside his nostrils. The nurse instructed him to breathe deeply and cough for her. When he did so, she gave him a motherly pat on the head and said he’d been a good boy.

  It was all Drake could do to keep from laughing, both because he was happy to see his friend breathing and because the nurse looked to be about half Casey’s age.

  Megan Casey stepped around the bed and kissed her husband on the cheek. “Hi, handsome. Bet you’re glad I encouraged you to take Drake out for that Irish coffee.”

  Casey coughed again. “Well, that was fun,” he said in a very scratchy voice. “How long have I been here?”

  “Less than a day,” she replied. “I’ll bet you’re hungry. I know you can’t eat or drink with a breathing tube.”

  “Not sure I could swallow anything right now,” Casey said. “Throat’s sore.” He looked at Drake. “You catch her?”

  “No. I was kind of busy giving you CPR. But relax, buddy. It wasn’t mouth-to-mouth.”

  Casey tried to laugh and grimaced. “That hurt, but thanks for telling me. I wouldn’t want people talking about us. Seriously, you didn’t catch her?”

  “She was a pro, Mike. She kept her face hidden from the security video cameras. By the time the guy across the hall called security, she was gone. The video is being analyzed by the FBI. We’ll find her.”

  Casey noticed his brother. “Phil, how come you’re here?”

  “You think I’d pass up the chance to see my big brother with a breathing tube stuck down his throat? Besides, I thought Megan might like some company on the plane.”

  This got a smile. “Thanks, Phil. Megan, how long do I have to stay here?”

  “For the night, anyway. How are you feeling?

  “I’m okay. My fingers and toes are sort of numb, though. Hope that goes away.”

  “It should. We need to get out of here for a bit and let the nurses decide if you still need the oxygen. I’ll be right outside,” she said as she turned to shoo the others out of the room.

  “Adam,” Casey said, “can you stay for a second?”

  When it was just the two of them, he said, “She smelled like she’d just stepped out of the shower. She was probably staying at the Marriott. Bring me the video from the registration desk and I’ll identify her. I know I’ve seen her face before.”

  Chapter 37


  Drake was watching the morning’s news and drinking a cup of the hotel’s room-service coffee when his phone rang.

  “Buy me breakfast,” said Liz Strobel, “and I’ll tell you about all the changes at DHS.” She laughed. “Your father-in-law said you might want to know.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In the lobby.”

  “Weren’t you in Washington when I called yesterday?”

  “I was.”

  “Don’t tell me you flew across the country to tell me about some changes at DHS.”

  “Okay, I won’t.” Strobel said. “Will you buy me breakfast, anyway, and tell me how Mike’s doing?”

  “Okay. Meet me in the Mission Grill on the second floor. I’ll be down in a minute.”

  Drake thought about changing out of his jeans, a lightweight blue crew neck sweater, and tan moccasin loafers and even caught himself checking out his appearance in the mirror. What was he doing, he asked himself, worrying about how he looked for breakfast? He grabbed his black blazer and walked down the long hallway to the elevator.

  When the elevator door opened on the second floor, his breakfast date had a smile on her face.

  “Surprised to see me?” she asked.

  “You could say that,” he admitted. “You just happened to be in the neighborhood?” They entered the grill.

  “Not really,” she said over her shoulder as they followed the waitress to their table, “I took the red eye out here to tell you what we’ve discovered about the lady you weren’t expecting the other night.”

  When the waitress had seated them and left their menus, Strobel leaned forward. “She’s a Brazilian model by the name of Daniela Dekker. She was in London a month ago for a photo shoot, and the security cameras at Heathrow gave us video that we compared to the images of her at this hotel. She was here, Adam. She’s your girl.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “We’re looking for her, but we’re light years behind Britain. They have almost two million surveillance cameras, both private and public, a lot more than we have. We’re going to have to find her the old fashioned way. Her agent is being questioned as we speak, and we’re searching for credit card purchases, reservations, and such.” She opened her menu. “It’s just a matter of time.”