by Rachel Grant
“And you don’t want that?”
He set the glass down. “No, we don’t. Our DNA, our heritage, is all we have left. Pharmaceutical companies want to steal our DNA. They want to use our genes to create pills and vaccines to protect others against diseases to which we are naturally immune. They want to use the core of our existence to save those who stole from us, to save the very people who sent us to boarding schools to make us forget who we are. Others wish to use our DNA to destroy all we have left by undermining our religion and taking away the foundation of our belief system with the claim our ancestors migrated here from the Old World.” He paused. “I don’t like this proposal of yours, Ms. Kesling.”
“This is the quickest way to determine if the bones are Menanichoch or not. Besides, the police could push for the same test, for the same reason, without the same guarantee of privacy for the results,” she said.
“That would only be an issue if I choose to notify the police,” Riversong said.
Erica started to speak, but the chairman put out a hand to stop her.
“You forget, you are on tribal land. We are our own nation, and that means we don’t always have to follow state law.”
Erica straightened her shoulders. “But you must comply with your BRAC agreement, which clearly outlines the protocol for dealing with unintentional discoveries of human remains.”
Riversong’s eyes narrowed.
Lee held his breath and felt sweat form on his brow. Erica was right about the BRAC agreement, but still, she was crazy to keep pushing the man this way.
Riversong finally spoke. “Fine. Run the test.”
Her eyes lit up. “I’ll need a DNA sample from a tribal member. Will you give it to me?”
“No. Find someone else.”
Her jaw clenched tight.
“Good luck finding a tribal member who’s willing, Cream Puff.”
She shot Novak a glare, then turned to the chairman. “I’ll need another bone fragment.”
Riversong wandered over to the pool table and picked up a cue. “I was told just this morning the new sump failed and shorted out the electrical system. The sump has been removed for repairs, so you shouldn’t have a problem collecting the bone.” Riversong paused. “You have two days to find a tribal member to give you a sample, or I handle this my way.”
She smiled tightly, and Lee wondered if she would ask JT.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“DO YOU MIND if I wait in the car?” Lee asked Erica as she parked in front of the Thermo-Con house.
“You just want to avoid the smelly basement.”
He opened his laptop. “I’ve got a lot of work to do on JT’s database.” After a few rapid clicks, a screen full of code appeared. He scrolled down the list and typed something that looked like gibberish to her and another, smaller, window opened, this one running what she thought might be a database simulation.
She felt a pleasant jolt of surprise. He really was working. “I don’t know why you rejected the job with Tech Support. You obviously like programming much more than archaeology.”
“Yes, but then I’d be working with a bunch of computer geeks, not a dark-haired beauty who turns me on just by breathing.”
She rolled her eyes and started to climb out of the car. He caught her hand. “I didn’t like the way Jake Novak looked at you. If he does that again, I’ll have to break his face.”
He sounded macho, Neanderthal even. But she liked it and smiled. “I’ll help you.”
She grabbed a plastic bag and entered the Thermo-Con house. She hadn’t thought it possible, but the house smelled worse today than it did a week ago. At the top of the stairs, she hit the wall switch, and nothing happened. She remembered what Riversong had said about the power and returned to her car to grab a flashlight.
Lee murmured something absentmindedly, clearly engrossed in his work. She didn’t think he’d notice if she flashed him. Who would have thought he was a computer nerd?
Back inside she heard a humming noise she hadn’t noticed before and followed the sound outside, where it became much louder. She rounded to the back and found a generator hooked up next to one of two narrow, ground-level basement windows. Power cords and a hose ran through the window, and she realized the plumbers must have set up a portable pump to drain the basement. A quick glance around told her the plumbers must have left for the day, as their truck was nowhere in sight.
She returned to the staircase, switched on her flashlight, and descended into the dark, rank room. The dead-rat smell was minor compared to the thick odor of exhaust and singed electronics. The new sump must have fried the fuse box.
The open basement door shed a small amount of light on the top steps. The lower half of the staircase was cloaked in darkness. She grimaced when she realized an inch of water covered the floor. Why hadn’t she sent her intern to do this task?
Her shoes weren’t waterproof, and she had precious little clothing to waste, so she sat on the stairs, pulled off her shoes and stockings, and rolled up her slacks. Breathing through her mouth, she placed her foot in the murky water, in her mind chanting the phrase, I will find a way to get Sam’s DNA. I will find a way…
The stairs landed in the middle of the basement, with the sump located in an alcove tucked next to the coal room. Dirt and shrubs diminished the light from the two narrow windows, and once she rounded the bend behind the staircase, her flashlight provided the only illumination.
She tucked the flashlight under her chin and squatted as best she could before she reached down into the muddy sump pit. Her arm was in up to her elbow, and she nearly pitched forward into the hole before she felt a piece of bone. Again she asked herself why she’d let Lee stay in the clean car with its pine-scented air freshener.
With the beam from the flashlight, she examined the fragment. There was plenty of saturated spongy marrow, making the piece a good candidate for a DNA test. After bagging it, she reached for another bone, but a tickle in the back of her throat caused a coughing spasm, and the flashlight slipped from under her chin and dropped into the mucky water.
“Shit!” Coughing and cursing, she reached for the light, which glowed dimly as it sank in the brown water. The light extinguished just as she caught it.
Still coughing, she stood and held her wet arm out from her body, hoping she hadn’t ruined the one work-appropriate outfit she had.
Giving up on gathering a second fragment, she caught her breath, then carefully made her way out of the alcove in the pitch-darkness. In the main room, only the tiniest sliver of light from the windows guided her toward the staircase. Clutching the bone bag and dead flashlight in one hand, she climbed the stairs and picked up her shoes. She was almost out of this foul, dark hellhole.
Another coughing spasm hit her just as she noticed the door was closed. No wonder it was so dark. Rocked by violent coughing, she dropped her shoes and clutched the railing with a slippery, wet hand. Finally recovered, she grasped the knob.
It wouldn’t budge.
“Lee. This isn’t funny. Open the door.”
She waited.
“Lee?”
She tucked the bone in her pocket and set down the flashlight, then tried the knob with both hands, but it was jammed. A wave of dizziness swept through her. She took a deep breath to steady herself on the steep staircase and realized the exhaust smell couldn’t be a remnant from the sump fiasco, because the smell had gotten worse.
Her eyes flew to the window. The small crack of daylight confirmed her worst fear.
The generator spewed exhaust directly through the open window.
Oh God. She was trapped inside a basement that was rapidly filling with carbon monoxide.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
AS SOON AS ERICA disappeared inside the Thermo-Con house after retrieving a flashlight, Lee called JT. “I just saw Jake Novak.”
“He’s at the office?”
“No. He was with Sam Riversong, at the tribal headquarters.”
“I hope
Riversong isn’t doing anything on the edge of legal,” JT said.
“I’m worried about full-blown illegal. The casino makes a nice money laundry.”
“Shit, Novak is suddenly popping up everywhere, and the timing couldn’t be worse. Get her to talk.”
“It’d go faster if you’d leave us alone.”
“Hey, I left you last night,” JT said.
“After you screwed up, and she was pissed at me. Where did you go last night, anyway?”
“To see Alexandra.”
“God, are you still stringing her along?”
“She dumped me. And we’re still friends.”
“Who have sex occasionally?” Lee asked.
“That’s the best kind of friend.”
“One of these days, one of you is going to get serious about someone else, and the other one will be hurt.”
“That’ll be me, little brother. That’ll be me.”
“Listen, Erica will be back soon, and I need to know what SARAC is.”
“That’s our primo, high-tech crane.”
“What does the name stand for?”
“Stationary Armored Radial Arm Crane,” JT answered. “Sara’s special because of the radial arm—which twists in addition to pivoting. It’s like having a giant robot to lift and position construction materials. No other crane in the world can do the things Sara can. It’s armored because we’ve used it in war zones.”
Lee watched the door of the Thermo-Con house. Erica could return at any moment. “I intercepted a text message that indicated the crane is coming back. On Friday.”
JT let out a string of curses. “Sara wasn’t supposed to come back. She’s supposed to be on the way to Afghanistan.”
“It looks like she’s coming stateside. Why send it back?”
“Either because someone made a massive mistake or because the arm mechanism broke. That happened a year ago, and the arm had to be shipped back here for repairs. The equipment is proprietary, and the technology, the engineers, they’re all here.”
“How would it be sent?” Lee asked.
“Most likely a ship.”
“Where would it go once stateside?”
“The reservation,” JT said. “There’s a wharf with a fifty-ton gantry crane and deep-water moorage. We have a shop there with the technology to make repairs. Motherfucker, if it’s broken and Rob didn’t tell me, I’m going to fire his ass. I don’t care how long he’s worked for Talon & Drake. We need that crane in Afghanistan, ASAP. The shit of it is, I can’t question Rob without tipping him off that I know Sara is coming back.”
“We need to know how it’s being shipped.”
“There’s a chance Rob doesn’t even know that detail.”
“Why wouldn’t he know?”
“To prevent terrorists from knowing the transport routes or hiding bombs inside civilian equipment being transported on military ships or aircraft, there are crazy layers of secrecy. I try to avoid military transport for that reason, but sometimes it’s necessary. I’ll do what I can from my end to find out. You said the message was a text. Can you find out who sent it and who received it?”
“Working on it. Disposable cell phones, but now that I have the numbers, I can lock onto the signals when the phones are turned on. Right now, both phones are off.”
“We finally caught a break.” The relief in JT’s voice was palpable. “Focus on that. And Erica.”
Lee stared at the house. “I wonder what’s taking her so long?”
“What’s she doing?”
“She’s made another deal with Riversong and is collecting some bones for DNA testing. I think she’s going to hit you up for the comparative sample.” He briefly told JT about the meeting with Sam.
“Should I give her the sample?”
“Depends. Sam’s dead set against giving her Menanichoch DNA. Are you concerned about DNA mapping?”
“Not particularly. Sam is from a different time. He can be a little paranoid when it comes to protecting the tribe.”
“If you aren’t worried, then give it to her. From my reading of the regs, Erica’s right that human remains have to be dealt with. Not to mention that it would hardly look good for Talon & Drake if the tribe desecrated a burial ground thanks to a botched EA.”
“You really read all those archaeology regs?”
“Of course.”
“Fine. If she asks, I’ll give it to her,” JT said, then hung up.
Lee closed the phone and slipped it back into his pocket. He stared at the house, wondering if he should go inside and help her. She probably needed someone to hold the flashlight while she collected the sample.
He shrugged off the concern. She’d be out in a minute, and he needed to appear engrossed in the database.
ERICA POUNDED ON THE DOOR. “Help! Lee! Help!”
Another wave of dizziness swept through her. She clutched the railing, barely keeping her feet under her. Coughing, nauseous, and dizzy, she knew she had to get out of this basement before she passed out, or she’d never wake up.
Pulling the collar of her shirt over her mouth and nose, she hurried down the stairs, letting her pants trail in the water as she made her way to the window. Closer inspection revealed there was no pane of glass—she couldn’t close the window to cut off the flow of exhaust.
Holding her breath, she tried to reach the generator, but she was too short and could barely get her fingers over the window ledge. She looked for something to climb on. Maybe she could escape through this or the other window. But she couldn’t see any promising shapes in the darkness and didn’t remember seeing any furniture down here last week.
“Lee! Help!” she yelled through the window, but the generator covered the sound, even to her own ears.
She tried to breathe as little as possible as she made her way through the dark room, trying to find a pocket of breathable air. The air was marginally better in the coal room. She took several deep breaths, then returned to the stairs.
At the top, she pounded on the door, no longer yelling because she was saving her breath. She was a scuba diver. She knew how to conserve air. The problem was it wouldn’t buy her much time.
Please, Lee. Save me.
WHAT THE HELL WAS TAKING Erica so long?
Lee set the laptop on the driver’s seat and climbed out of the car. He stared at the house for a moment. The house had two exterior doors that weren’t visible from where he’d sat in the car, and Novak knew they were coming here after their meeting with Riversong. Lee broke into a jog, remembering the man had swept Erica with a possessive leer.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside. “Erica?”
“Lee! Help!” Her voice came from the basement.
He raced through the living room to the kitchen and tried the basement doorknob. “What’s going on?” The knob wouldn’t move. He studied the mechanism. There was no lock.
“Help! I’m trapped!” Her voice was laced with hysteria, and she began to cough.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said, hoping to soothe her. “The latch must be stuck, but I’ll get you out.” She must be afraid, being trapped in the dark. He didn’t blame her; that basement was rancid.
“Hurry! The basement—” Her words were cut off by more violent coughing.
“I’ll just run out to the car and grab the tools in your dig kit.”
“No! Don’t leave!” she screamed between coughs. He could hear her gasping for air. “The basement is full of carbon monoxide.” Her voice dropped. “And I’m feeling sick and dizzy.”
Adrenaline shot through him. “Move back from the door!”
He kicked next to the knob once, twice, three times, then took a few steps backward and used momentum to put force behind his heel.
The wood cracked. Another kick and half the door swung out over the stairs. The other half splintered and fell.
Erica clung to the railing several steps below, coughing and shielding her face from the raining wood fragments. He ran down th
e stairs, scooped her into his arms, then carried her up and outside the house.
He dropped to his knees on the lawn while cradling her against his chest.
She sucked in great, gasping breaths of air, then leaned away from him and vomited.
He yanked his cell phone from his pocket and dialed 911.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THE AMBULANCE PULLED AWAY with sirens blaring. A helicopter was waiting on the fire station landing pad to airlift Erica to a Baltimore hospital equipped with a hyperbaric pressure chamber. A paramedic told Lee her prognosis was good, but the faster she got to the hyperbaric chamber, the better her chances for full recovery.
He didn’t ask, and the paramedic didn’t mention it, but he knew there was a chance Erica could have permanent brain damage.
Twenty minutes before she’d been trapped in the basement, Jake Novak had looked at her with predation. Lee wanted to kill the man with his bare hands.
He swiveled and faced the Menanichoch police officer who was investigating the incident. He was the same cop who had interviewed him the night Tommy Riversong was murdered. “Check Jake Novak’s alibi.”
The man cocked his head to the side. “You don’t think this was an accident?”
“Of course not. Someone jammed the door and turned the generator so it vented through the window.”
“The door is old and could have merely stuck, and the plumbers could have made a mistake when they positioned the generator.”
The plumbers were called, and the younger one Lee had met last week returned to the scene twenty minutes later. The man studied the position of the generator. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “I don’t think we would have set it up this way, but I can’t be certain. I wasn’t thinking about the exhaust. I was more concerned with the hose, which was barely long enough.”
“What happened to the pump you installed last week?” Lee asked.
The man looked from Lee to the cop, clearly wondering if he had to answer the question.
The cop shrugged. “Tell us.”
