Off the Grid (A Gerrit O'Rourke Novel)

by Young, Mark

  The senator seemed to bite. Summers straightened. “We need to work together as a world community to face the challenges ahead. We cannot be the only gunslinger in town. We need other world powers to deal with terrorism, dictators, and those crazy enough to drag us back to extinction. I’m talking about fanatics like North Korea’s Kim Jong-il or Iran’s Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.”

  “So tell me, Senator. How do you and people like Kane propose to create this world community? By lessening our country’s ability to protect itself? By allowing others in the world to decide what’s in our country’s best interests? And at what cost? Just look at what it has cost you already.”

  The senator stared at him without speaking. Gerrit couldn’t tell what the man was thinking. “Tell me what Kane has planned for our future. It looks to me like you have already bought into it. Tell me why he had to kill my father and mother. Why they were so dangerous he had to eliminate them.” He realized he was almost shouting.

  Summers seemed to shrink in his chair. “I don’t know anything about what happened to your parents. Kane said…” And then he stopped speaking. Any anger the man had shown earlier seemed to vanish into the night air. He stared at the floor without speaking.

  Any further conversation with Summers would be futile. As Gerrit got to his feet, the senator whispered something. “What did you say, Senator?”

  “Megiddo.” The man’s voice grew stronger. “That’s all Kane ever mentioned to me. It was a code name for a project he and others were involved with that would give them the upper hand. Allow them to begin to control the bases of power they needed to create this world power. This world community.”

  “How were they supposed to achieve this?” Gerrit held his breath, waiting for the man to answer. Naming this Project Megiddo in the context of world domination gave him a chill. Were they dealing with a bunch of suicidal maniacs? He could see Kane in that role.

  Summers gave him a dazed look. “It was all supposed to make the world a better place. A safer place.” The senator gave a bitter laugh. “Save lives. What a joke. Look what it has done so far. Kane takes the life of my only daughter. What does he have planned next? My execution because I didn’t handle her right? Oh, jeez, if he finds out I talked to you—I’m history.”

  Drawing closer, Gerrit asked again, “What’s their plan, Senator? What is Project Megiddo?”

  Summers shook his head. “I don’t know exactly. They’ve developed—or are about to develop—a self-replicating technology that can embed itself into any communication system, computer program, or spyware. I don’t fully understand its capability, except that they are able to intercept, decrypt, and monitor anyone’s communication—online and off-line.”

  “What do you mean off-line?”

  “I mean anything you own that involves technology—cell phones, laptops, eReaders, computers—can be used to intercept anyone’s communications. They can gain access to anyone’s financial accounts, medical records, tax files—anything you might want kept private—and they can expose it to the world.”

  The senator shakily rose to his feet. “For all I know, they’re listening to us right now. If that program’s operational.”

  “Where is this project housed? And who’s working on it?”

  Summers gestured helplessly. “All I know is Richard has people coming and going from a place outside Albuquerque, New Mexico. Whatever they are working on can be found there. Kane rarely visits, but he’s in contact with someone there on a regular basis. I’ve been in the room with him when these calls come through. You can tell it’s a high priority by the way he acts. I think they must be really close to making this happen—if it hasn’t happened already.”

  Gerrit’s radio squawked with a transmission. “Gerrit, can you hear me?” It was Willy’s voice, very excited.

  In response, Gerrit hit the transmission button twice. He didn’t want to interrupt the senator.

  Willy almost screamed over the line. “We’ve got three vehicles bearing down on us at a high rate of speed. Richard’s in one of them.”

  Gerrit wheeled around and faced Summers. “We’ve got a problem. Looks like Kane and some of his people are headed this way. The way they are traveling, they mean business. I would suggest you come with us.”

  “Us? There are others with you?”

  “Exactly, Senator. And they heard everything we’ve said.”

  The man’s face paled. “You don’t know what you’ve done. You’re going to get us killed.”

  “Not if we get out of here right now.”

  “And go where?” The senator rose and screamed at him. “Where could I go to hide from that man?”

  “Now would be a good time to find out. Are you coming?”

  A look of resignation crossed Summers’s face. The man slowly sat down.

  “Senator, you’d better get out of here.”

  The man shook his head. “Nowhere to run that he can’t find me.” He picked up his drink and took a sip before speaking. “Gerrit. One more thing. Once Megiddo kicks in, watch out. You’ll be facing the forces of hell. They’ll be able to throw everything at you and anyone else standing in their way. They’re about to launch it—any day. Time is running out.”

  Gerrit spun around and sprinted for the door. As he felt the cold night air, he heard the engines of several vehicles several blocks away. He ran to where Joe and the others sat hidden and jumped inside the vehicle just as Redneck pulled from the curb.

  Alena leaned next to him. “We thought you’d never get out of there.”

  Gerrit glanced back and saw a stream of headlights a block away. Redneck had blacked out their own lights, using moonlight and streetlights to navigate their escape. Joe sat next to Redneck. Gerrit learned forward and touched his uncle’s arm. “How did they know we were here?”

  His uncle cocked his head to one side. “I think since Marilynn’s death—maybe even before that—Kane must have been watching the senator very closely. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has the house wired for sound.”

  “So they know Summers spilled the beans?”

  Joe looked back and nodded.

  Gerrit settled back into his seat. “Then I just left a dead man back at that house.”

  Joe looked forward. “I think he was always going to die at their hands. Just a matter of time.” He grabbed one of the throwaway phones. “Maybe we can create a little trouble for Kane.” He quickly dialed, waiting for the call to be answered. “Hello, Dispatch. I want to report an attempted murder. Someone is breaking into Senator John Summers’s residence. I think they’re trying to kill him.”

  He hung up, leaned out the window, and hurled the phone into a field of weeds. Picking up an encrypted phone he always carried, Joe dialed another number. “Hey, it’s me. Just left Senator Summers’s house in Bethesda. I think Kane is about to take him out. You better start rolling. I’m going to forward a recording of a conversation between the senator and Gerrit. Keep it in a safe place. The puzzle’s starting to come together.”

  Gerrit shot him an incredulous look. “Who was that?”

  Joe replaced the phone and stared out ahead of them. “One of the good guys. Someday, I’m afraid, you’re going to meet him face-to-face.”

  “Afraid? Of what?”

  Gerrit was met with silence, his uncle motionless, staring out into the blackness ahead.

  Chapter 36

  Senator Summers finished his drink. Carefully, as if his glass were made of eggshells, he set it down on the table next to him, a trembling hand shaking ice cubes like a gambler rolling dice in a cup.

  He flinched when the front door slammed open. Intruders pounded inside, boots heavy on hardwood floors, footsteps echoing throughout the house. Richard Kane emerged from the darkness like an evil apparition, a spirit made of flesh and blood.

  “John, you betrayed us.” Fury underscored every word.

  John’s voice, unlike his hands, came across strong, as if he was speaking on the floor of the senate. “We’re
all traitors, Richard. You, me…all of us.”

  Richard approached with a semi-auto in his right hand. He knelt down at eye level with John, arms crossed, weapon pointed upward. “Oh, Senator. How I wished you had stayed strong. I wanted us to finish together. But now…?” Richard shook his head. “Now, I must travel alone.”

  “Just make it quick,” John said, his voice now a whisper. “Like you did for my daughter.”

  “In good time, my friend. In good time. My people have to check out your house. Make sure we have some…privacy.”

  Collette emerged from the shadows, standing just behind the senator. Richard glanced up. “Did you find anything?”

  She drew closer and leaned over, huskily whispering into the senator’s left ear, loud enough for Richard to hear. “I found this in his bedroom, Richard.” She held up a small revolver with a gloved hand as she ran a finger through Summers’s hair. “Hardly big enough to hurt anyone.”

  She glanced up as Richard silently nodded.

  Quickly, she reached down and grasped the senator’s right hand around the butt of the weapon. Summers began to resist. With her left hand, Collette drove two fingers deep behind the senator’s collarbone causing him to scream in pain and loosen his grip on the gun. She yanked up the gun and shoved it toward his temple, forced his fingers into the trigger well, and squeezed. A blast erupted from the barrel.

  Summers slumped in the chair. Dead.

  Collette looked up at Richard, her face splattered with blood, eyes gleaming. “I believe a vacancy just opened up in the senate, monsieur.”

  Mirthlessly, he laughed. “And I have just the candidate to fill his shoes. Now, let’s get out of here.”

  Emergency lights from patrol cars and yellow-flashing lamps attached to street barricades filled the night with eerie excitement. Yellow crime-scene tape created an inner and outer perimeter as police and FBI vehicles clogged the streets. A few of the lucky ones were able to drive past the outer line and park in front of the senator’s residence.

  He drove up to the first barrier, stopping to allow a uniformed officer to peer inside. He patiently held up his identification and badge, waiting for the officer to use his flashlight for illumination.

  The officer peered inside the car. “Beck Malloy. FBI, huh?”

  Beck nodded, trying to shield his eyes from the flashlight’s angry glare.

  The officer straightened. “Let me just get you to sign in on this crime log.”

  Beck shook his head. “Call your boss. Have him speak to the agent running this investigation. Give him my name.”

  The officer shot him a puzzled look, backing away a few feet while talking into a mike clipped to his shirt collar. He gave someone Beck’s name and waited for a reply. “Huh, dark wavy hair, brown eyes, about two hundred pounds, in his forties, my guess.” The officer shifted back and forth on his feet, waiting for a reply, then cocked his head, apparently listening to someone through his earpiece. The police officer looked back at Beck, eyes wide. “Yes, sir.”

  Flashing the light back at Beck, the officer approached. “You can go ahead, Agent Malloy. I guess you’re not required to sign in. Really weird. It’s like they don’t want a record of you. Never heard anything like that in all my years.”

  Beck nodded. “Appreciate that you checked it out, Officer.” He pulled away and drove down the street until he came to an FBI vehicle—a converted RV-size bus—being used as a command post.

  He piled out of the car and walked to a side door of the command post. He reached up and flung it open. A large man in a blue FBI Windbreaker stood just inside. The man was on the telephone. “I don’t care who they are. Keep all media a block away. If I catch any of them inside my crime scene, I will have you transferred to the Dakotas…in the middle of winter. Forever.” He slammed the phone down. Other phones jangled as men and women, wearing identical Windbreakers, jostled around inside as they sought a place to work. The irritated agent spotted Beck standing in the doorway. “Beck Malloy? Let’s step outside for a moment.”

  Beck held the door open as the other man pounded down the stairs, landing on the asphalt so hard Beck thought he felt the pavement shake. “Just got word of this, Ray. Came as quick as I could.”

  “Just got word?” Ray looked at him with skepticism. “My people say you’re the one who alerted the Bureau about this fiasco. Give me a break, Beck. How did you know about this?” The man pointed a finger toward the house. “You can’t believe the kind of storm that’s brewing over this. Every Tom, Dick, and Harry from D.C. is on the phone, trying to get information. Help me out here.”

  Beck looked at the house. “An informant deep undercover gave me a heads-up. I called PD units to check it out. How’d they do it?”

  “They?” Ray looked incredulous.

  Beck grimaced. My big mouth. He knew where this was going. Joe O’Rourke had called it in minutes before Richard and his people hit the place. He did not mention this fact to the police.

  Ray continued to harangue him. “There was more than one? How in the name of everything that’s holy did you pull that out of the hat? Is this coming from some of your spook contacts? Counterintelligence? Don’t tell me we’re dealing with terrorists.”

  The words just spilled out as Beck watched the man come unglued. “Let’s just stick with the facts here, Ray. Tell me what you’ve found out.”

  Irritated, Ray rubbed his jaw, eyes narrowing. “Okay. Here’re the facts. Victim found in his den, sprawled out in a recliner. No one else at home when officers arrived. Front door wide open. A single tap to the right temple from an S&W revolver, five-shot Model 638, registered to the senator. Found one spent .38 caliber casing in chamber and four live rounds.”

  “Senator’s right handed?”

  “My guess. Doubt he did it, though, based upon what you just told me. So you going to tell me what you know?”

  Beck shook his head. “Can’t, Ray. I’m sorry. Right now, this must remain classified. Dispatch gave the Bureau a call, right?” He didn’t give Ray a chance to answer. “Cops get here. Find the senator dead. So here we are.”

  Ray nodded, remaining silent, giving off a look that told Beck the man knew something important.

  “What else did you find out, Ray? A witness?”

  Almost gleefully, the agent pulled out a clear evidence bag from his pocket. Inside, Beck saw a small electronic device.

  “Wiretaps?”

  “Federal wiretaps. At least they were federal once upon a time. Stolen from a shipment to one of our no-named spook groups—NSA, DOJ, CIA. You name it. Do you know who might have used these?”

  “Not FBI?”

  Ray’s face tensed. “You tell me, Malloy. How’d you know the senator was in trouble before anyone else—unless you’re listening to the wiretap?”

  Beck ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I told you. An informant called it in. Swear on a stack of Bibles, I did not know the senator’s house was bugged. I cannot reveal my source at this time. He is not involved with Summers’s death. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “You mean that is all you’re willing to tell me.”

  Beck let the barbed comment go unanswered.

  Ray glanced toward the house. “Anyway, we found a bunch of these throughout the house. And one more interesting fact.”

  Beck looked at the agent, waiting.

  “There doesn’t seem to be forced entry into the house. But the front door was thrown open with such force that the inner doorknob slammed into the wall. Like someone opened the door with a key, then got mad and kicked it open. Fresh damage.”

  Several agents hurried past the two men on their way to the outer perimeter. One of the men turned toward Ray. “Sir, the SAC’s on his way. I think he is going to handle the media from here.”

  Ray groaned. “Oh, great. This investigation is going into the toilet fast.” He turned back to Beck. “You’d better get out of here while you still have the chance. Once the Special Agent in Charge and his entourage ge
t here, watch out. Everyone better hold their butts with both hands.”

  Beck reached over and shook Ray’s hand. “Thanks for the information. Let me know if anything important comes up. You got my number. I can be reached 24/7.”

  Ray nodded. “Oh, one other thing. It looks like the senator may have had a visitor just before he got whacked. We found two glasses near his body. Running prints on both of the glasses.”

  “Thanks. Stay in touch.” Beck turned and began walking to his car. As he climbed in, Ray was still watching. Beck gave him a thumbs-up as he drove away. As he reached the corner and began to make the turn, three unmarks with lights and sirens swept past. Beck knew one of them carried the SAC.

  The investigative nightmare just got worse.

  As he watched them pull away in his rearview, he thought of the information Joe O’Rourke passed his way. Beck eyed the taillights as they grew smaller and wondered who he could trust. For all he knew, one of Richard’s men could be sitting in those cars that just passed. In fact, even the SAC could be one of Richard’s men.

  Beck stepped on the gas to put distance between him and the investigation. When did everything begin to change, when there were no longer clear lines between the bad guys and the good guys? When others—because of wealth, power, and position—were no longer bound by the same laws everyone else lived by? Had it always been that way?

  A world of two countries, two governments, two classes. On one side, all the law-abiding, hardworking, taxpaying people who loved this country. And on the other, all the Richards of this world, viewing themselves as unaccountable to no one but themselves.

  It seemed futile at times as he struggled to make things right, working with the corrupted system to hold people like Richard to the same standard as everyone else. Beck thought of the cost paid by Joe O’Rourke and his people. Always running, always hiding, always waiting for the executioner’s ax to drop. And now, Gerrit had been thrust into that same world.