Betrayal

by Tim Tigner

  She considered slitting her wrists and lying down to die beside her unconscious brother—but only for a second. Wiley had her ire up. She wanted to go out fighting. She wanted to leave a note, an accusatory message from the grave. To do that properly, she had to free her hands.

  Cassi turned and began looking about Wiley’s desk for something sharp. The desk itself was glass, so there were no drawers. She looked into his pewter FBI pencil holder. It held a miniature broadsword that functioned as a letter opener. Her hopes jumped until she saw that it too was made of pewter, a soft metal. She dumped the pencil holder out onto the desk to test the edges just in case. They were dull as Des Moines. She studied the remainder of the spilled contents. There was the usual assortment of short wooden golf pencils and logo stamped ink pens. Her eye jumped to the single shiny object and she felt a glimmer of hope. Winking at her from the desk was a pair of nail clippers.

  She found it slow going, trying to maneuver the tiny object behind her back with slippery fingers and bound hands. Oddly enough, it even left her struggling for breath. She did not care. It was working. The nail clippers were making headway against the tough plastic. She had gotten nearly halfway through when her eyes darted from the zip tie to her hands. The sight she saw brought the terror of the moment crashing home, provoking a guttural scream. Despite the blood she could clearly see that the tips of her fingers were blue.

  Chapter 55

  Asgard Island, Chesapeake Bay

  ODI JOLTED AWAKE to the sound of his sister screaming. He looked in the direction of her voice and asked, “What happened?”

  As he spoke, Cassi’s hands flew out from behind her back and a shiny object soared across the room. It splashed down near his feet. “Odi, thank God you’re awake. Stuart pistol-whipped you.”

  “Right after Wiley told us of his plans,” Odi said nodding, wishing all the while that he could rub the back of his head.

  “And made us drink your Creamer,” Cassi confirmed.

  The urgency of their predicament struck him like a hammer. “How long ago was that? How long was I out?”

  “It was about fifteen minutes ago, I think. Look at me.” Cassi held up her bloody hands and Odi saw the discolored fingertips. His stomach dropped. They did not have long. The explosive was already sweating, and they had each swallowed the equivalent of eight hand grenades.

  “There may still be hope,” he said, trying to sound more optimistic than he felt. “Can you free my hands?”

  Cassi looked at him with wide eyes and then grabbed the nail clippers off the floor. Ten seconds later Odi’s hands were also free.

  “We’ve got to purge our stomachs. Use your finger. Gag yourself.” Odi got up on his knees as he spoke and then plunged a finger into his throat after noting that it was not yet blue. The gag reflex came on fast and strong. His throat protested but his stomach began to heave. He ignored the pain. His mind was working overtime now, churning as fast as his stomach. He was desperate to prevent 10/12. He was willing to endure anything for that shot at redemption. He was straining to think of how they could possibly pull off such a miracle when an idea came to him. He pulled his finger from his mouth and shouted, “Wait!”

  Cassi looked over at him, obviously scared.

  Odi got off his knees and retrieved the plastic wastebasket from the bathroom. After emptying its contents onto the floor, he set it down before her and said, “Vomit into this.”

  Cassi looked at him funny from the corners of her bloodshot eyes but did not question why.

  Over the next couple of minutes they knocked heads a few times over the can, but eventually all their heaves were dry. Cassi had expelled three or four marble sized chunks whereas Odi’s effluent looked more like milky peas.

  “I’ve got nothing left,” Cassi said, her voice hoarse. “Is it safe to stop?”

  Odi was not sure. It did not look like they were accomplishing anything, and there appeared to be roughly a pint of effluent in the bucket, but the penalty for underestimation was severe. “Let’s give it a couple more tries.”

  Thirty seconds later he said, “That’s enough.”

  “Is it really that simple?” Cassi asked.

  “I don’t know. Probably not. It only takes a few drops to provide a bomb with critical mass. It’s time for phase two.”

  Odi pulled a line of clear plastic tubing from the ruins of the aquarium. “You have to swallow one end. Once you’ve got it down the right tube, I’ll push it all the way down and suck the remaining contents out. It will hurt like hell, but it beats the alternative.”

  Cassi grew a shade paler, but nodded stoically. His sister was the best.

  The next couple minutes went by in a disgusting, painful blur as Odi purged Cassi and she returned the favor. He kept stealing subtle glances at the tips of her fingers, and was encouraged to see that they had gotten no worse.

  With phase two complete, Odi ran back to the half bath and flung open the medicine chest. He saw Aspirin, Band-Aids, Triaminic, and Mylanta. “Bingo.” He grabbed the green plastic bottle and gave it a good shake. It was nearly full. He tossed it to Cassi. “Drink this. The acid in your stomach catalyzes the reaction. No acid, no explosion. In case we didn’t get it all, this should neutralize any Creamer that’s left.”

  Cassi drank half the bottle in the time it took Odi to walk back to her. She gave the Mylanta back to him. Odi guzzled the rest and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

  “What do we do now?” Cassi asked. “We’re still stuck here in Wiley’s panic room, completely incommunicado. Six thousand people are about to die. Tell me you have a plan.”

  “Of course I have a plan, Sis. That’s why we threw up into the wastebasket. You can help out by getting me some coffee filters. There should be some under the bar.”

  While she searched, he took the basket off Mr. Coffee. Then he grabbed the wastebasket and set it next to the bar’s small sink.

  “Here you go. What else can I do?” Cassi asked.

  Odi put two clean filters into the basket and positioned it over the sink. “You hold the filter-basket,” he said. “I’ll pour.”

  The milky liquid seemed to take forever to drain through the filter. As it dripped out the bottom, Odi studied Cassi’s hands. They were regaining their original color. His had never changed. Although he had no empirical evidence, intuition told him that this was a very good sign. “Why don’t you wash up and make use of the Band-Aids. To get out of here, you’re going to need your hands.”

  “Okay,” Cassi said. “ But while I’m doing that will you tell me what’s going on?”

  “The acid in your stomach causes the explosive to congeal like curdling milk. As the process progresses, the curds combine with one another. Eventually only larger curds are left and they form a crust. The crust sweats a substance toxic to hemoglobin. That is why your extremities turn blue. By drinking the antacid, we raised the pH in our stomachs, halting the reaction. Now all we need to do is keep the pH in our stomach neutral until everything passes into the small intestine, where the pH is too high to catalyze the reaction.”

  “But the explosive is still there,” Cassi said, panic apparent in her voice.

  “Yes, but there’s nothing to set it off. Think of it as a hand grenade with the pin still in. It’s safe to carry around.” The thought of adding just don’t fart flashed across Odi’s mind, but he thought better of it. His sister did not always appreciate his humor.

  He used a few more filters to dry out the congealed explosive further. “Is my memory right? Do the bolts on the door enter the frame on both sides?”

  “That’s right.”

  Odi began inspecting the frame, looking for the bolts between the cracks. “But not on the top or the floor?”

  “I don’t think so,” Cassi said. “Definitely not on the floor.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right. There are only two lamps.”

  “Huh?”

  “There are three ways to detonate most explosives: chemistr
y, pressure, and electricity.”

  Odi took a brass lamp off the desk and its twin from the end table as he spoke. He removed the white shades, the shade supports, and the bulbs. He cleared everything else off Wiley’s desk and said, “Grab that end. We need to set this down in front of the door.”

  Cassi assisted without question.

  Once the desk was flush against the door, Odi took the lamps and laid them sideways. He lined up the sockets so that they were directly in front of the door bolts. Then he bent the lampshade and used it as a prop to get the level just right.

  Once satisfied, he split the explosive in half and then halved it again. Cassi watched him pack one-quarter of the explosive putty between the door and frame at the location of each bolt, leaving a protuberance. With that accomplished he packed each empty light socket, again leaving some run-over. He laid the lamps on the desk once finished, and slid each carefully toward the door until the bits of explosive made solid contact.

  “Bring me that extension cord,” he asked Cassi, pointing toward the desk. She did so and Odi plugged both lamps into extension-cord sockets. “Now comes the fun part.”

  Being careful not to disturb the lamps, Odi trailed the extension cord into the bathroom, and then motioned for Cassi to join him. Once she was inside, he closed the solid door. “Crouch down in the corner with your knees covering your chest,” he pointed, “and plug your ears.” Cassi did not require any explanation. She rushed to do as she was told.

  Odi placed the end of the extension cord over an outlet and then looked over at her. “Here goes …”

  Chapter 56

  The SS Norse Wind, Chesapeake Bay

  WILEY LOOKED DOWN at his hands as they gripped the yacht’s wheel. No white knuckles, no jitters. He had gotten through the Asgard confrontation distancing himself from the spasms of his own heart. He had frozen his emotions, and they had yet to thaw. It had still been the most difficult five minutes of his life. But he had known going in that the third-person approach would be the only way to get through it, and he had prevailed. He had prevailed without a hint of weakness because Stuart had been by his side.

  Now that it was over and Cassi’s blood stained his hands, Wiley had expected to be feeling sick. He expected to be spending this boat ride back to the mainland retching over the rail while Stuart looked on in disgust. But he was not sick. He had not thrown up over the rail. In fact, he wanted breakfast. Looking from his hands to the mainland he felt only one emotion: relief.

  Emboldened by this discovery, he allowed his thoughts to wander to the Tiffany box and the promise it held. It seemed a distant memory now, like a fond but forgotten childhood memory. He pondered this unexpected emotional twist, searching for deeper meaning as the Norse Wind cut through the waves. As they neared the marina, he figured it out. Cassi had been spoiling his dream. This was supposed to be the most magical time of his life, a time of self-realization and tremendous professional growth. Instead, he had been stuck in a quagmire of doubt, bogged down by worthless guilt. With Cassi gone he was unencumbered, free to grow. Her death had lifted a tremendous weight from his back. Destiny was once again marching by his side. He felt powerful, purposeful, and brave.

  With Cassi and Odi both out of the way, he expected smooth sailing and clear skies—at least metaphorically speaking. The rising sun had ducked behind a thick bank of clouds shortly after it cleared the horizon. Now the temperature was beginning to drop.

  He saw a dock boy standing ready, eager to be of assistance, and for a second his mind flashed to the Marines ever guarding the president. He saluted the boy and eased off on the engines. As the yacht dropped lower in the water, Stuart gave him a funny look. Stuart knew what he had been thinking.

  Wiley looked at his thick titanium watch. It was early enough that he could still make it to the office on time.

  While tossing a line to the dock boy, a shocking thought blazed through his mind like lightning from above. He let fly a panicked “Shit!”

  The dock boy jumped back.

  “What is it?” Stuart asked.

  Wiley stepped back into the cabin and lowered his voice. “Can you handle the boat?”

  “Yes. Why? What happened? What’s wrong?”

  “We forgot the security video.”

  Stuart’s jaw dropped.

  Wiley stamped his foot three times on the deck. “Damn, damn, damn!” He looked at Stuart. “You have to go back!”

  “Okay.”

  “You have to go back to Asgard right now and get the recording!”

  “Okay.”

  “That video will show everything. You have to get it now. The panic room is engineered to withstand assault, but we used a lot of Creamer. If someone heard the explosion or saw the smoke they might have called the Coast Guard to check it out. You have to beat them to it. Hell, you have to be gone before they arrive.”

  “Okay, Wiley. Get out of here. Go be seen in the office. I’ll take care of it.”

  “The recorder is right above the monitor we watched. It’s in the cupboard on the wall. Actually, every monitor has its own recorder. You better take all the DVDs just to be safe. Plus, that way I can say I never got around to reloading the recorders after the last batch ran out.”

  “Will do.”

  Wiley picked up his duffel bag and jumped onto the dock. He handed the dock boy a twenty and said, “You can leave us now. He’s going back out.”

  As the boy ran off, Wiley looked back up at his coconspirator. “Don’t come back without that video, Stuart. You know what happens to people like us in jail.”

  Chapter 57

  Asgard Island, Chesapeake Bay

  CASSI CLOSED HER eyes and held her breath as Odi plugged in the extension cord. She heard a sputtering sound come through the closed bathroom door and wondered if it was the last sound she would ever hear. She had already survived one explosion of late. Was two too much to ask?

  Odi tightened his grip on her shoulder. Then she heard a deafening boom. A hard rain of debris followed. It sounded as though a giant were whipping handfuls of pebbles against the walls. Cassi guessed that the stones were really glass shrapnel from Wiley’s desk.

  Odi held her in place for a few seconds more until everything settled down. A wisp of smoke crept under the bathroom door as they waited. Cassi worried that the house might be on fire. Odi shook his head as though reading her mind. He said, “The smoke is just a byproduct of the blast. It’s not a threat.” Then he released her arm, stood, and opened the door.

  The first thing she saw was a big hole in the wall in the place where the door had been. She shuddered at the sight, joyful though it was. The bomb that wrought that destruction had been inside her body. She would never feel pure again.

  Looking around, she felt like an evacuee returning home after a hurricane. There were a thousand little rips in the black leather couch and pockmarks all around the walls. Cassi looked back at the door to the bathroom. Bits of glass were embedded like cupcake sprinkles all up and down the wood. The result was a cross between modern art and a medieval torture device, although structurally it was not damaged. The windows had also held. She realized that without Odi’s bomb, they would never have escaped.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Odi said.

  “You read my mind,” Cassi replied. “Just give me a second to swap Wiley’s wet pajamas for my regular clothes.”

  While zipping up her jeans, Cassi had a thought that would not wait. She picked up her shoes and ran barefoot down the hallway to the security closet. She flung open the door to see six flat-panel monitors, each showing a different room. She found the recorder for Wiley’s study and rewound the video for thirty seconds. Before pressing play, she glanced upward in silent prayer. The monitor came back to life with the picture of Odi hurling the marble ashtray into the aquarium. This was better than great. It was fantastic. “I can’t believe they forgot this,” she called.

  “What?” Odi asked, running to stand beside the closet door.


  “See for yourself. It’s all here. What they did to us is all video recorded.”

  Cassi sat down on the floor and quickly tied her shoes. Finished, she looked up at her brother and lost her smile. He looked pale. “What’s wrong?” She asked, standing up and ejecting the DVD.

  “That video may cook Wiley’s goose, but it also blows my alibi.”

  “Your alibi?”

  “I was planning to wake up from a coma in Iran once my mission was complete.” Odi made quotation marks with his fingers as he spoke.

  Cassi understood. She looked down at the DVD in her hand and thought about his situation for a minute. She had temporarily forgotten about Odi’s earlier murders. “We’ll figure something out later. Tempting though it is, nailing Wiley and Stuart is not our top priority. Stopping 10/12 is. To do that we have to get off this island. How did you get here?”

  “Jet Ski.”

  “Will it fit two people?”

  “You bet.”

  Cassi smiled. “Finally, we catch a break.”

  Odi led her across the lawn in the opposite direction from the marina. They moved at a slow run, discussing strategy and the events of the last few weeks as they went. Once they cleared the manor house lawn they entered a deciduous forest. A few of the birches still had golden leaves, but most of the limbs were bare. It was beautiful and innocent, the polar opposite of how she should have felt, yet something about being there with Odi gave her hope.

  Odi lurched to a halt after about five minutes. Cassi was surprised to find that the forest went right up to the cliff’s edge and realized that this was no place to be running blind. She peered over the edge and saw the Jet Ski below.

  Odi said, “Oh shit.”

  “What is it?”