Off the Grid (A Gerrit O'Rourke Novel)

by Young, Mark

  “Likewise, Lieutenant.”

  “I’m so glad you survived.” Cromwell glanced at the other two standing a few feet away. “And who are they?”

  “Let’s just say they’re friends and leave it at that.” Gerrit said. “The less you know, the better it will be for you and your retirement.”

  “My ex is taking my retirement, so I don’t have a whole lot to lose.” The lieutenant tried to treat his last statement as a joke, but Gerrit could see the words only covered up deep emotional wounds. Cromwell was like a man set adrift without an anchor. “Anything I can do to help, just let me know. I got everything you asked for set up on my end. You want to see her?”

  “Yeah. That’d be great.” Gerrit motioned for the others to follow as he and the lieutenant made their way toward the marina. “Another friend of mine will be sending over some supplies by courier. I’ll need to keep an eye on the parking lot. They should be here within the hour.”

  Cromwell nodded. “When do you want to shove off?”

  “In a few hours or as soon as it gets dark.”

  Looking back, the lieutenant said, “Are you sure? Those waters—particularly as you head out toward open sea—can get pretty tricky at night.”

  “Darkness works for us. Less likely to see us coming. We can look like another leisure craft as far as they’re concerned. Until we get in close. Buy us some time.”

  “Whatever you say. Here she is,” Cromwell said. “A 53-foot Navigator Pilothouse, with a 370 horsepower Volvo engine, 600 gallons of fuel, and a draft of 4 feet, 5 inches. You can practically drive this baby to their front door before they see you coming.”

  Gerrit studied the boat’s contours, pleased that Cromwell came up with this so quickly. “Who is it registered to in case the Coast Guard or crooks run it?”

  The lieutenant smiled. “To your deceased friend Nico. Listed under one of his holding companies. We seized it after you—”

  “After I died?” Gerrit smiled. “Doesn’t a drug seizure take longer before it can be turned over to local PD?”

  “I just cut through some red tape. What the bean counters don’t know, won’t hurt ’em. Just don’t run this boat onto the rocks, or I will have a major problem.”

  “I’ll do my best to get this back to you in one piece.”

  “And no bullet holes. Right?”

  “Can’t make any promises.”

  “Don’t get yourself dead again, son. This old heart just can’t take any more losses.”

  Gerrit placed a hand on the lieutenant’s shoulder. “Sir, I intend to survive. I might ask the same about you. Aren’t too many good guys left.”

  Cromwell walked away with saying another word.

  As promised, about an hour later another van entered the parking lot, compliments of Jack Thompson. Gerrit and the others struggled to get the wooden crate on board after the van left. Concealed in a large fish locker, they found enough weapons, explosives, and gear to wage a small war—which is what Gerrit suspected they might face as they continued to hunt for Richard Kane and Joe O’Rourke.

  Richard followed a shale-strewn path leading from his compound—built on the crest of a cliff overlooking the Strait of Juan De Fuca—to the shoreline below. In a rare occurrence, the day’s fog had lifted in the late afternoon to allow him to see all the way to the Canadian shoreline. A ship bound for open water slowly navigated through the strait about half distance between shorelines.

  A Brandt’s Cormorant with dark plumage dived into the water a few hundred yards offshore. A pair of seagulls, perched on top of a large boulder, squawked at each other as if they’d been married for years. Richard made his way along the rocky shorelines, taking in the sounds and smells of the sea. The cool air cleared his mind, and he took a moment to relax.

  In spite of some setbacks, things were now starting to come together. He just gave Stuart an update on the incident in Harrogate after Collette texted him that the mission had been successful. In spite of having to move his headquarters to another continent, Richard felt a glow of satisfaction that Gerrit and his crew were no longer a threat. Finally, something positive to share with that overbearing man who held Richard’s future in those gnarly hands of his.

  Stuart was getting old. Maybe it was time for younger blood to step up and take over the reins of power. Those—like himself—who were more in tune with the times. Old warriors like Stuart seemed to be losing their touch, losing their ability to handle all the complexities of this movement. Globalization and world control were not for those who could no longer fight the fight, whose minds were living in the past, minds still resisting change.

  Project Megiddo had been Richard’s baby, his idea. It had taken everything he had and all the contacts he could muster to get Stuart and the others on board. If Project Megiddo succeeded—when Project Megiddo succeeded—Richard would be in line to be elevated to that highest sanctum of power. He would be one of the gods.

  He could almost taste the triumph. It was only a matter of time. He glanced at his watch. It was only hours away. At 10 p.m. Pacific Standard Time, Project Megiddo’s first assault would be launched. Two banking systems, nine nations known or suspected of possessing nuclear weapons, and one nation with massive intelligence capabilities—the United States—would all fall victim to cyber penetration.

  Once Project Megiddo’s system infiltrated those systems, Richard and his group would be able to control all those instrumental in each of these critical areas. Weaknesses and vulnerabilities of each of these powerful individuals had been identified. Richard’s people, already briefed, stood poised to act upon his command. Financial, military, and intelligence capabilities would be at his fingertips. Their system would soon be able to trigger a financial collapse anywhere in the world, launch nuclear missiles upon command, and tap into any intelligence asset anywhere in the world.

  A month ago, they tested the system on one individual who thought himself well insulated inside the White House. Megiddo’s technology worked its way into the target’s computer systems, meanwhile reaching out to an incalculable number of databases, drawing information specific to the man’s life. Using quantum computer technology—thought to be years away from reality—Megiddo’s calculations and multisystem access worked at speeds most scientists thought impossible. Every secret, every hidden sin this idiot thought covered up became known to them in a flash, including photos, videotapes, and captured voice messages that clearly made the target vulnerable—and in one instance, eligible for a long term in prison.

  Two hours after launch, Richard had sat down with the target for dinner and revealed all he knew about him. The man seemed to melt before Richard’s eyes as his misdeeds were revealed: illicit sexual encounters covered up thirty years ago, a business deal gained by twisting political arms using White House clout, and the revelation of an offshore account the man socked away for a rainy day, proceeds from ill-gotten gains. By dinner’s end, Richard had an invaluable source inside the White House, a man with direct access to the President.

  He laughed, thinking about another staff member in the office of the Director of National Intelligence, who had the audacity to scoff at the notion anyone might be able to penetrate U.S. safeguards protecting nuclear launch codes. As they sat over lunch in a private conference room inside Langley, Richard listened as this moron listed all the safeguards in place. He just nodded in agreement, all the while thinking about Megiddo’s pending capabilities. Just for kicks, he had the staffer run through the Megiddo system. Now, he had another convert, a man who had become the CIA director’s confidential advisor.

  A vibration in his upper pocket alerted him to another incoming text. He glanced at the words and ground his teeth as the message became clear. This was impossible. Anger welled up inside.

  Collette must have been captured—or killed. Gerrit and the others were coming his way.

  Chapter 59

  Strait of Juan De Fuca

  Gerrit sat in the captain’s chair, steering away from
the protected waters of Puget Sound and worked toward the open waters of the Juan De Fuca Strait. To the west, a yellow globe began to set in the sky, although they still had a few hours of daylight left. Just enough to get them past Port Angeles before darkness descended.

  They were making good time. He wanted to use these few moments at the wheel to go over their next plan of attack.

  Beck Malloy was out of position to help, but the FBI agent made some calls and marshaled reinforcements coming in by chopper once Gerrit gave the word. He was sure Beck failed to mention that they would be following the orders of a person wanted for questioning in several murders. Kane’s compound, perched on a cliff, had finally been identified and construction plans for the site emailed to Willy’s computer. Aerial shots of the site had also been downloaded.

  “Mr. G, here’s the layout as I see it.” Willy sat at a small table next to Gerrit . “Because of its isolation, I think Kane went a little light on security. The only access to the property is one roadway. There is a large helipad near the main house, and the rest of the property looks like trees, rocks, and heavy forest—stuff like that.”

  “Where is our best access?”

  “From the water—but not directly. Here, take a look.” Willy angled the laptop to allow Gerrit a view.

  After studying the screen for a few moments, Gerrit pointed to an aerial snapshot of the entire area. “Just east of the cliff, there’s a small inlet where we can anchor and cruise our way to shore in the Zodiac. Once on land, it looks like a steep climb to the ridge—tough but doable. Then if we just follow that ridgeline, we’ll emerge east of where the lab’s located. Once we scout the landing site, Beck’s people can land and secure the target. Remember, we need the element of surprise. They may be expecting us. My goal is for us to stay in the shadows and call in reinforcements to take on Kane’s security.”

  Willy nodded. “From there, we can spread out and take the—”

  “Not you, Willy. Alena and I will handle any armed security. I need you to focus on the technology we need to gain an upper hand. Heat sensors, aerial reconnaissance, any intel you can grab from Kane’s computer system. Until we get Beck’s people on the ground, it will be just the three of us against a small army. Bad odds. I want you to feed us whatever surveillance footage you get from the satellite in real time. The colonel is getting you clearance. They have designated airtime specifically for this operation. For you.”

  “For little ol’ me?” Willy said, a look of anger on his face. “Ah, shucks, Massa, you sho’ been good—”

  “Stuff it, Willy.” Alena’s sharp tone cut through the cabin. “This is no time for your stupid jokes.” She emerged from the galley below, shooting an angry look at both men. She seemed to avert her eyes from the drawing lying on the table.

  “How come you and Mr. G. get to do all the kung fu stuff, and I get stuck playin’ with a computer?”

  Alena frowned. “Frankly, you have no martial arts skills, Willy. Bang’n in the woods back home doesn’t cut it. We need your technological expertise. And we need it now.”

  “It’s bang’n in the hood—not woods.” Willy clenched his jaw. “Can’t you at least give me a gun?”

  Alena’s face softened. “Okay. One handgun…but don’t shoot anyone. Deal?”

  Willy shrugged and looked back at his computer. “Guess it will have to do until I earn my black belt. Then…watch out!”

  Alena’s jaw clenched. Even Willy’s humor didn’t loosen her up. Something seemed to be troubling her. Gerrit turned toward the computer. “Alena, you want to take a look before—”

  “Why do I have to take a look? I’ll be following you the whole time. You are the one with uncanny recall, Einstein.” She whirled toward Willy. “And you, just do what Gerrit says. It is time to get serious. No more jokes, you hear?”

  Willy took one look at her and hung his head. “I just thought I’d help you guys hit the place. Not hold back again and watch you have all the fun.”

  “I need your eyes and ears, Willy.” Gerrit jumped into the conversation, trying to calm the others down. “It’s critical. Okay?” Gerrit watched Alena looking outside. “You okay?”

  She wheeled around and joined Willy at the table. “No, I am not okay.” She took a deep breath. “We still do not know where Joe is being kept. And Kane must know by now that we are still alive and kicking.”

  Gerrit shrugged. “Maybe we got lucky. It might take days for them to dig through all that debris before they find out our bodies are missing.”

  “What if he tried to reach Collette directly?”

  “Stafford’s going to take care of Collette and the others. Put her and the bodies on ice until he hears from us.”

  She gave him a hard look. “Do not underestimate Kane. He has eyes and ears everywhere. Look at…Redneck.” A look of sadness washed over her features.

  “Everyone here has been tested, Alena. We’ve all come under fire. Only Redneck failed the test. The rest of us are all good.”

  Her face stiffened. “Let us just get this over with soon. We need to find Joe and get Kane under wraps—once and for all.”

  A yelp from Willy drew their attention back to him. “I’m up and running. We have just enough light to get a fix on the place.”

  The feed zeroed in on the coordinates of Kane’s compound. “Print that overview out, will you?”

  Willy nodded at Gerrit, sending the image wirelessly to his portable printer. “Here it comes. I’ll make several copies.”

  As soon as a copy became available, Gerrit asked Alena to take the wheel while he studied the layout. “Seems simple. See the main house? Everything must be in that area.” He pointed to what appeared to be a large, multistory building. Just like the site plans showed, only one roadway connected to the building and several small structures on the compound. The road led down the mountainside, finally connecting with other roads east of Port Angeles.

  Willy was looking over his shoulder. “Mr. G, see that?” He pointed to structures near the main building. “Looks like satellite dishes for sending and receiving. They must be moving massive amounts of data through those towers. I’d sure like to get a closer look.”

  “You’ll get your chance,” Gerrit said. “They’re going to be watching that roadway for anyone posing a threat to them. Based upon our operation in Albuquerque, they also expect trouble from the air. But a boat—this is where I think they’re most vulnerable. We can hoof in from this inlet to the east,” he pointed to spot on the map near the water’s edge, “and make our way up to the compound. I’d bet they don’t even have any ground sensors in place. Just roving security because of the huge area to cover and a perimeter fence.”

  With one hand on the wheel, Alena leaned over and studied the map for a few moments. “How are the three of us going to slip past security? We don’t know how many bodies they have on the ground.”

  “If everything goes as planned, we’ll manage.” Gerrit began to lay out their approach. Everything hinged on Beck’s contact on the outside. Before they left the marina, Gerrit called that number and gave the contact their radio-frequency numbers. The contact promised they’d be standing by with reinforcements when the time came.

  “A twenty-minute response once they get my call.” If they didn’t get the call, Gerrit and the others would be in a world of hurt. No reason to share this fact with his team. He would make the call—no matter what happened.

  “Right now, we have the element of surprise.” He pointed the bow toward the shoreline, hugging the coastline as closely as possible.

  Richard slammed his fist on the desk. He just received an updated message that Gerrit and the others were closer than he thought.

  This time, he must put them down hard. End their stupid antics once and for all. Anytime now, reinforcements Richard called in would be arriving on a secluded airfield about twenty miles away. He wanted to handle this whole matter quietly, but now Gerrit somehow commandeered reinforcements and escalated the situation. />
  Quiet extermination was no longer an option. This would be a major firefight, and he intended to win.

  This could not come at a worse time. In a few hours, Stuart and the others expected Project Megiddo to be in full swing. Every target on Richard’s list was going to be hit, a full blast from Megiddo’s invasive launch. Data and decryption programs would be flooding their computers from around the world.

  Imagine such awesome power. The President of the United States, for example, would be at Richard’s beck and call. Absolute power in every country, in every situation—all at his fingertips. Richard and his people were so close to victory, adrenaline rushed through his body.

  Now this! Gerrit and his pathetic group of losers.

  Search-and-destroy teams had been deployed along the coastline just as dusk set. Any vessel approaching their safety perimeter would be boarded and dealt with extreme prejudice.

  Shoot to kill! That was his order. No more traps. No more prisoners. He needed them dead.

  Now.

  Chapter 60

  “Gerrit, you gotta read this. Beck just sent it in.” Willy’s voice raised an octave. “We’ve got major problems.”

  Leaving Alena at the wheel, Gerrit scrambled over to where Willy sat in the forward cabin. “What now?”

  “Here.” Willy pointed at his computer screen. “Beck knew that darkness would set in before we got set up. The satellites wouldn’t do us any good in the dark, at least the close-in images we needed.”

  “Okay. Tell me what I’m looking at.”

  Willy clicked on the image. “This is a video feed Beck’s people got just a few minutes ago. They sent a drone to sweep the area with a thermal-imaging scan.”

  Gerrit leaned closer and Willy clicked the feed. Kane’s darkened compound suddenly had small specks of heat spreading outward like tiny ants. “More security?”