“What?” Conner’s voice undulated with frustration.
“He’s doing the same thing he did in Kuwait. Why?”
Conner leaned back, his face contorted. “I am so not following you here at all, Lacey. Please clue me in.”
“Here’s the rundown. Hillman Oil is a mining and refinery company, meaning it does both the extracting and refining of the crude. Refining is the process of breaking oil into usable parts. The problem is that there’s a lot of waste, even in the most advanced processes. Frank Hillman’s company designed a system—on paper—called gasification that would use that waste, plus regular household waste, to create syngas. Syngas is the building block of many types of fuel. In theory, a great way to recycle waste, right?”
Conner shrugged, and she had the feeling she’d lost him. “Imagine that you had a plant in town where you could take all your waste, then turn it into gasoline. No more wars with Iraq and Iran or deals with Arabia. No more posturing for control of the oil-producing regions or tankers dumping oil into our oceans. Gas created out of nothing but our own household waste. Of course, we’re talking all waste—from cans to paper to plastic, so forget about recycling, but still, gasoline for our cars, right?”
Conner’s eyes lit up. “Okay, now I’m tracking.”
“The trade-off is this: your breathable air, your potable water. We didn’t know it at the time, but studies over the past seven years in Kuwait showed that the toxicity levels of the by-products of this process—ash and smoke—were more than just dumping the waste into the ground. They created a toxic water source and that made the days under the toxic cloud dark as night. The only thing good gasification does is make lots of money for the ones at the helm.” She motioned to Hillman’s name.
“Hillman was going to sell this process to Chul-Moo, a North Korean mafia group. I always thought he had been behind the double cross in Kazakhstan, but I never proved it. I mentioned it in my report, and since that time, I’ve had someone following me. But I could never make the link.” She went back to the press release. “Says here the committee is researching the option of relaxing some EPA rules in certain areas to test the syngas option. What do you bet those areas are under Hillman control?”
“But why would Hillman want Ex-6? It has nothing to do with this, does it?”
Lacey sat back, crossed her arms, and ran the past few days over in her mind. She leaned forward and typed in another search—Hillman Oil + Korea. “I have a hunch.”
One hit appeared. From the AP wire news. Two Hillman Oil Employees Found Murdered.
Lacey read the article, scanning down with her finger.
“Says they were North Koreans and victims of a random mugging in Almaty. Just says they worked for Hillman Oil,” Conner summed up.
“Almaty is in Kazakhstan.”
“I’m completely baffled,” said Conner.
Lacey logged off, exited her program, and removed the pendant and PCMCIA card from the slot. She packed it away in her pocket.
“What are you doing?” For a guy who had probably faced down a few terrorists and rogue-nation creeps, he looked downright terrified.
“I’m going to find out what’s going on and free the man I love.”
Micah felt like he’d been drop-kicked. Every muscle shrieked, his shoulder gnawed at him in nearly consuming pain, and his head pounded where his brain tried to escape through his skull. Most of all, his heart felt freshly shredded. Lacey was a spy, a double-crossing thief. A traitor.
He was such a fool. Of course she’d murdered John. John had never been faithful to her. Micah knew that. He should have warned Lacey from the first moment he suspected. But it would only have sounded petty and desperate.
Well, he had been desperate. And he had to believe that she had been too. Right. Oh, please, let it have been desperation that drove her to sell out her country. He ached to believe her, to take the accusations that saturated his thoughts and spew them out, but they made too much sense.
He groaned and heard laughter.
“Does it hurt, Micah?”
He frowned at the mention of his name.
“Good. Because it should. She doesn’t love you. She never did. She loves no one but herself.”
No, that wasn’t true. Micah centered himself on the look on Lacey’s face when she played him the message from her daughter. Stark horror. Grief. And she had gone out in front of a bullet for Emily. Only they’d swung the rifle at him, hadn’t they?
His mind felt knotted. Lord, help me see wisdom.
It probably wouldn’t matter anyway. Either way, he’d die as soon as they got Ex-6. Either Lacey was a Benedict Arnold—which would rip his heart right between his ribs—or she was going to sacrifice her freedom and her life for him. Neither option seemed acceptable.
“How do you know so much about me?” Micah asked the air.
“She told me about you. Many times. She told me about this man who had been her best friend in Ashleyville. A little homework and a trip to Kentucky did the rest. Her father was very illuminating right before he died.”
Micah sucked a breath, reaped agony.
“He thought I was a lawyer on assignment to clear her name. Really I just wanted her attention. Her undivided focus on finishing our plans. She is so easily distracted, Lacey is.”
Micah disagreed. The woman he knew was 100 percent devoted, especially to the ones she loved. But then again, that was the woman he knew. What about Lacey the spy? Lord … wisdom. Help me see the truth.
The Lacey he knew had broken out of the hospital in her bare feet to figure out a way to free her daughter.
Or was it to get Ex-6?
No.
The woman he knew had let him go after tying him up at her cabin.
Or was that to earn his trust?
No.
The woman he knew had surrendered in his arms, her feelings spilling out of her in a kiss. Now that hadn’t been faked … had it?
The woman he loved had tried to get him to go back to the truck. She hadn’t faked her sweeping kick either.
In fact, if she wanted to give away Ex-6, she could have dropped him right there in the woods, delivered the real Ex-6, and escaped with her daughter.
Conner’s words returned to him, an echo of hope inside his head: “You gotta tell her you love her, not expecting anything back.” And then he recalled Romans 5:8: “God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners.” That meant loving Lacey even if she was still a liar, a thief, a murderer. That meant loving Lacey despite her apparent deceit. The love example from 1 Corinthians suddenly felt painfully applicable: “Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures though every circumstance.”
I say I love her, Lord, but I haven’t, not really. I believed the worst about her for years. Please forgive me. Please help me to see the truth now and love her regardless of what it is, just like You love us.
Like a light shining down into his darkness, illuminating the truth, he remembered Lacey barreling down the hill in his truck, churning up grass in her wake and shouting, “Get in!” Heard her soft breath, lost in slumber as she cuddled against him in the truck. Smelled her from across the motel room, freshly bathed and leaning into his plans with hope. She was a seasoned spy. She could have ditched him—truly ditched him—with Ex-6 at any time.
Yet she’d tried to save his life. Over and over and over. He knew, without a doubt, she’d do it again. And probably die trying.
“Be still, and know that I am God.” He let Psalm 46:10 fill his mind. He’d been so busy trying to figure out a way to pry Lacey out of this mess, he hadn’t spent more than two minutes on his knees, praying. But hog-tied, blindfolded, and helpless seemed like a pretty good time to get busy, seriously busy, with God.
Lord, help me see the truth. I believe that You brought Lacey back into my life for a reason. But I have totally blown it. I wanted to be the man she needed—and now I see I just made it worse. I wanted to bring her to jus
tice, but what she needs is mercy and a huge dose of love in her life. Your love.
He nearly choked, thinking of the despairing hole where her faith had been. “You’re so cerebral, Micah,” Lacey had said. And maybe he was. Maybe he hadn’t let his knowledge of Christ travel the eighteen inches down to his heart. Suddenly he ached for the void in her soul.
But true love always hopes.
If it’s in Your plan to get me out of this mess, Lord, teach me to love her—and You—how You intended. Please move me past the fear of vulnerability to a new place with Lacey. And with You.
For the first time in his thirty-eight years, he felt a rumble, a live pulsing in his heart, something that felt both frightening and compelling. More than desperation. More than hope.
Immanuel?
Micah couldn’t dodge the image of God inclining His ear toward him, reaching out, and drawing him into His embrace. A wild tingle possessed his bruised body, something new and definitely not cerebral. It emboldened him, adding fervency to his prayer.
And please, Lord, even if You don’t mean to save me … protect Lacey and little Emily. Bring them home.
Chapter 20
“THIS ISN’T GOING to work, Conner. Who wears jewelry to a drop?” Lacey touched the wireless video feed fitted into the choker at her neck. “He’ll see right through this.”
“Keep your collar up and don’t let him get that close. You just talk. I’ll pick up the rest, then feed it into my computer. Senator Ramey has already agreed to listen in. So either way, the truth will be exposed. If something should go south, this little gem is equipped with GPS. We’ll be able to find you.”
Lacey looked at him, not sure what he meant.
Conner smiled. “The world will know that you aren’t capable of murder or treason despite what happens.”
“That’s assuming Hillman or whoever will be there, and that I can somehow make him confess.” She raised her eyebrows. “You’re assuming a lot from me.”
“Well, actually, I’m trusting in God more than you, but I do have high hopes. You can thank Micah for convincing me of your persuasive powers.” He smiled again, but this time it was touched with melancholy.
“If I hand over Ex-6, the government will know I’m a traitor. The senator won’t miss that.”
“Then don’t hand it over before you get your information. And trust us to back you up.”
She knew she didn’t deserve his kindness or that of Dannette and the rest of Micah’s team. Nevertheless, the support pumped courage into her veins.
“Let’s go over this map one more time.” Hank Billings stepped up, holding a marked topo of the Tunnel Bluff Cave area. He spread it out on the table and leaned over it.
Lacey couldn’t help but notice how Sarah leaned against the wall, arms crossed, disapproval on her face. Obviously Hank hadn’t done anything to endear himself to the feisty EMT over the past twenty-four hours. Maybe it was his constant humming. Or the way he’d announced that should the situation disintegrate, he was calling in the Poplar Bluff Sheriff’s Department … or the NSA.
Lacey tried to focus on Hank’s words. “Take FS Road 3225. It cuts right through the Tunnel Bluff area. There’s an entrance to the Tunnel Bluff Cave here—” he pointed to a higher area—“and a twenty-foot waterfall here, another exit. This is the official entrance, so I’m thinking that’s your drop point. The cave is intertwined with tunnels and nooks, so don’t go too far inside; you’ll be lost forever.” He gestured to another high area, a quarter of a mile from the falls. “You can take the Forest Service road to the trail entrance, then take my four-wheeler up the trail. I’m thinking we’ll follow you as far as the FS road, right?”
Sarah’s eyebrows raised. “We?”
Hank ignored her, his attention on Conner, who nodded. “It’ll be good to have someone there who knows the area,” Hank said.
Sarah shook her head, said nothing.
“There’s only one glitch in this plan,” Conner said. “The GPS is line of sight. If you go underground, Lacey, we can’t track you. And the video feed has a quarter-mile radius. You should be fine, but just so you know that if you are intercepted and taken somewhere, we’ll lose contact. It’s important you get face-to-face with whoever has Micah and not let him extract you from that location.”
Lacey nodded, filing the information. She knew Frank Hillman was on the other end of this nightmare just as he’d been in Kazakhstan. Despite the knots in her stomach, she couldn’t wait to yank off his mask. And if he’d hurt Micah …
Then again, Micah was already horribly wounded. She took a deep breath. And just think how he’d feel about her after she turned over the key to her country’s secrets.
Once Hillman got the program, even if she had made another copy, it wouldn’t matter. The government didn’t have anything stronger than Ex-6. It was like knowing the enemy could read your thoughts, despite the fact you could read theirs.
“Let’s go,” she said and buttoned her jean jacket.
“Not yet.” Conner motioned to the group. “We have to pray.”
Lacey sighed and braced herself.
“Lord, we’re aware that You are still at the helm, even though we’re in this dark place. We ask for Your light to shine.
Reveal the one who is behind this nightmare. Guide Lacey’s steps. Bring Micah home safely. And, Lord, please protect Ex-6. In spite of Lacey’s intentions, we also know her desire is not to betray. Protect us, O Lord.”
“Amen,” Lacey whispered, feeling unexpectedly shaken by Conner’s words. It unnerved her how she ached for them to see fruition.
Lacey gathered her sleeping daughter in her arms a final moment and kissed her on her forehead. “I love you, Em.”
Andee touched Lacey’s shoulder. “I promise to take good care of her.”
Lacey nodded, feeling once again like a poor excuse for a mother.
As night pushed through the trees, they wound through the lower Ozarks of Mark Twain National Forest. Lacey went with Conner, Dannette and Sarah rode together, and Hank drove alone, pulling his four-wheeler. They made a lonely procession, their lights scraping the dark and foreboding forest. Lacey held on to the armrest, feeling her nerves strum in the silence. She fought an overwhelming urge to pray as Conner’s words echoed in her head.
They rolled up to the trail entrance, Conner’s lights pushing back the grip of forest. Conner checked her equipment, tested the GPS and the video feed. “Remember, line of sight. Don’t go into the cave unless you have to. And don’t let him take you anywhere.”
Lacey nodded and tightened her grip on her cell phone. She’d checked the signal, saw that it had weakened to a blip.
When Hank handed her a tiny mag light he said nothing, but his eyes spoke concern. She liked him—despite his teasing of Sarah. The fact that he’d befriended them and made them feel like he could be an ally, regardless of his role as forest protector, made her wonder what his future might be with this team. He’d even purchased the round of pizzas they’d inhaled for dinner.
Lacey checked her pocket. The rabbit’s foot sat snugly inside, clipped to an inner ring. Hopefully it would be enough to barter for Micah’s life. When it was over, she’d ditch the GPS and take off. Her heart ached at the emptiness that threatened to consume it. She’d left instructions to deliver Emily back to Janie and written her daughter a letter of apology. Maybe … when Emily had grown up, she’d understand why her mother couldn’t face life in Leavenworth. Then again, her future felt like a dungeon.
She climbed on the four-wheeler and gunned it up a wide hiking trail through the forest. The waning moon filtered through the trees, slivered the path with fractured light.
Andee had marked the map with red marks and packed it in a Ziploc. Lacey took it out, shined the light over it. She remembered Hank’s words. If she took another entrance, she might be able to sneak up on …
Yeah, and wasn’t that what happened in Kazakhstan? She hadn’t stayed behind, like John had asked. She’d tr
ied to sneak up on the meeting and surveil it for evidence, hoping to fortify John’s suspicions and keep him safe. She’d only gotten nabbed. And her husband killed.
Perhaps she should just stick to the plan. After all, if Micah had been able to drop off the fake Ex-6 the first time around, maybe he wouldn’t be wounded and traded like cash.
No, he’d be dead. And Emily would still be in Hillman’s claws. Lacey had no doubt it was Micah’s quick thinking and sacrifice that had won her back her daughter. She owed it to him to save his life. If she could.
Lacey stopped the four-wheeler, got off, and cut off the path into the forest. Ten minutes later, she found the chert entrance. Drawing her breath for courage, she glanced at her watch: 9:45.
She ducked and entered the cave, hoping that it would lead to truth. She ignored the fear radiating at the back of her chest and strode into the cleft of rock. The crack in the earth opened just enough for her to walk upright. Even then, she had to dodge outcroppings. Above her, the crack converged, tightened. It didn’t escape her that the farther she walked, the tighter the opening became. Hank’s words hung in her mind like a cobweb: “The cave is intertwined with tunnels and nooks.” She’d taken that to mean it would intersect with her destination.
Had it not been for her flashlight, the darkness would have suffocated her. She felt it close in, held at bay by only the thin swath of luminescence. She took out her compass to compare it with the topo map. The smell of must and the cold emanating from the limestone surface prickled her skin as she confirmed her direction. Yes, the tunnel should connect with the main entrance. Well, maybe.
As the tunnel closed around her like a cocoon, she wondered if she’d traded cunning for common sense.
For Micah’s life.
She dropped to her knees as the tunnel suddenly plunged to knee height. The tunnel ran five or so feet, then opened. She scrambled through, layering her hands and her legs with filth.
She flicked off her light when she emerged into a cavern. Climbing to her feet, she listened but heard nothing, and in the absolute night she saw nothing. She turned on her flashlight and ran it over the void. Stalactites plunged from breathtaking heights; the smell of standing water pinched her nose; and a stilled, mildewed breath, frozen in time, filled the space. She heard her thundering heartbeat and staggered under the immensity of the room that could house the Astrodome. She felt tiny. Insignificant. Overwhelmed.
Flee the Night Page 23
