Skystorm (Ryan Decker)

by Steven Konkoly

  Or maybe she was overthinking all this, and they’d rally together and figure out a way to salvage the situation. The look on Quinn’s face suggested he wasn’t finished with whatever power play his bruised ego had conjured during the drone attack. Her cell phone rang before she got more than a few feet from the desk. She stopped, hesitating too long to start walking away again.

  She reached for her satchel to retrieve her phone, painfully aware that everyone was watching her. Not because she had a phone in the hub. Directors were authorized to carry them anywhere in the building. But because the sound of a ringtone stood out, particularly since nobody else had made or received a call since they’d convened over three hours ago. Not to mention the fact that the timing of the call felt suspicious—even to her.

  “Ezra Dalton,” she said, not having recognized the number.

  “Ezra. This is Senator Margaret Steele.”

  Shit. This was the absolute last thing she needed right now. She hesitated too long, and Quinn must have sensed something was wrong.

  “Speakerphone, please,” said Quinn. “Unless it’s a private call.”

  “Is it private?” asked Allan Kline. “Or does it concern all of us?”

  There was no way to back out of this nightmarish scenario, so she leaned into it instead.

  “Senator. I’m placing you on speakerphone,” she said, setting the phone down on her desk.

  “By all means,” said Steele, her voice broadcast across the room. “What’s the saying? Better to kill two birds with one stone. Or however many there are of you.”

  “Senator Steele, this is Harold Abbott. I think we can all agree—”

  “Save it, Harold,” said Steele. “This isn’t a negotiation. You have zero power in the equation. Within the last twenty-four hours, I put SKYSTORM permanently out of business, nearly sinking your ship in Houston and knocking the airfield facility in northern Texas out of commission. I also landed state and federal investigators at your doorstep. What else? I launched a drone attack on your building that could have been ten times worse. I swatted your elite security teams at my house and your Manassas outpost like flies. I destroyed your data center in Nevada, taking your archives with it. And I’m ready and willing to keep up the momentum. The only problem is that I’ve run out of high-value targets. The only targets of any value that remain at APEX are the board of directors. So here’s what I propose—”

  “Margaret. There’s no need to threaten—”

  “I’m not threatening, Harold. I’m promising. If I catch even the slightest whiff of APEX near me or any of my associates in Los Angeles, I will have my people duct-tape a Claymore mine to your head and explode you inside that fancy building of yours. That goes for the rest of you—and your families.”

  “That’s crossing a line you don’t want to—” began Quinn.

  “What? That I don’t want to cross? Interesting that one of you might say that, given that you tried to kidnap Mr. Decker’s daughter a few days ago. Not to mention the fact that APEX had its fingerprints all over the murder of my daughter, Mr. Decker’s wife and son, and countless others slain by Jacob Harcourt a few years ago. All to divert my attention away from his plan to privatize the war in Afghanistan. Or should I say—your plan.”

  “We had nothing to do with any of those murders,” said Abbott.

  “The Afghanistan conspiracy, like the cartel border war plan, may have been executed by Jacob Harcourt, but it reeks of APEX. Directly or indirectly, I don’t care,” said Steele. “And you can actually thank Ms. Dalton for connecting those dots for me. The files she left in my office last year, with the full intention of scaring me off, were just a little too detailed for an organization supposedly just watching Harcourt from a distance.”

  Dalton had to sit down again. Her vision narrowed dangerously close to full blackout. Steele had just killed her career—if she hadn’t killed her literally.

  “We keep close tabs on everyone in our sphere of influence. You know that,” said Abbott, shooting her a deadly glare. “I guarantee you that the information in those files was routine work for us.”

  “I don’t really care. Here’s how this works moving forward. I’ve already paid my new associates, in advance, to kill each and every one of you, so get any thoughts of a preemptive strike out of your heads right now. And I’m dead serious about killing all of your families. If you don’t believe me, I can email you the detailed file I’ve compiled over the past month on each of you. And you can rest assured, I put together those files with one purpose in mind.”

  “We believe you,” said Harold. “APEX will not pursue you or any of your friends and associates from this moment forward.”

  “I’d like to hear that in the form of a board vote,” said Steele.

  Dalton barely mustered the voice to vote in favor of Harold’s immediate resolution to cease and desist all hostilities toward Steele.

  “Now that we have that behind us,” said Steele, “let me make one more thing clear. I don’t know if your institute will survive. I sincerely hope it doesn’t, but that’s out of my hands now, unless you violate the terms we just discussed. If you do somehow survive, you don’t get a free pass to run amok in the Beltway. We’ll be watching you very closely, and don’t forget the ten terabytes of data we managed to collect. It’s encrypted, but that shouldn’t pose much of a problem given the resources I have to throw at it.”

  The call ended, and the room went deathly still for several moments—until Samuel Quinn stood up. Dalton knew what was coming but couldn’t muster the strength to oppose it. She was locked into a full anxiety attack, her vision blurry and dulled.

  “I move to immediately remove Ezra Dalton from the board of directors and to terminate her employment at APEX,” said Quinn.

  She heard Allan Kline second the motion before it all went dark.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  Harlow stood on the hard-packed desert floor, searching the hills with binoculars for Decker and Brad’s SUV. Bernie’s venerable C-123 roared a few hundred feet behind her, its propellers generating a small sandstorm that had obscured her view from the bottom of the ramp. He’d insisted on keeping the plane ready to take off at a moment’s notice.

  Decker hadn’t spotted anyone trailing them from the data center, but Bernie wasn’t taking any chances. If the support station had access to a helicopter, APEX could follow the SUV from a distance and pounce on their desert rendezvous at the absolute worst moment.

  As much as Harlow didn’t want to get back on that thing, she was glad to know it could lift her to safety in a matter of seconds if things went sour. And truth be told, a part of her felt comforted by Bernie’s plane, when it wasn’t maneuvering radically or landing in the middle of a desert. It gave her a feeling of protection, like nothing bad could happen to her inside it. She could see why he placed so much trust in the forty-five-year-old aircraft. It didn’t feel capable of letting anyone down.

  She glimpsed something distinctly out of place in the distance, but it quickly disappeared. Harlow trained her binoculars where it had briefly appeared, a dust cloud rising in its place. It had to be them. Her radio crackled.

  “Harlow. I just got a text from Decker. They spotted Bernie’s aircraft from a hilltop. ETA five minutes,” said Pam.

  “I’m pretty sure I just saw them,” said Harlow. “I’m going to keep an eye out behind them. Make sure they haven’t brought friends.”

  “Good idea,” said Pam. “I’ll keep your seat warm.”

  Harlow scanned the skies beyond the hills, looking for anything out of place. A glint of sun. Another dust cloud. Any sign of trouble. The horizon and landscape looked clear. A few minutes later, a white SUV crested one of the hills, speeding toward them. She kept her vigil with the binoculars until the vehicle skidded to a halt next to her.

  “Need a ride?” asked Pierce.

  “Yeah. Back to Los Angeles. Preferably not in that thing,” she said, pointing her thumb at Bernie’s plane.

 
; “No can do, lady,” said Decker. “This car is fresh from a crime scene. And probably has a tracker installed. We need to get out of here ASAP.”

  She hopped in the back seat, and Decker took off.

  “I spoke with everyone back in California,” said Harlow. “They don’t seem to be in any hurry to leave Alderpoint. Anna especially. I guess it’s turned into one big camping trip for the whole crew.”

  “I don’t blame them. It’s a gorgeous spot,” said Pierce. “I plan on sitting around the campfire drinking beer for a few days before we even think about what’s next.”

  “I like that plan,” said Decker. “How is Riley holding up?”

  “She’s hanging out with Nicki and Tommy, and the FBI kids,” said Harlow.

  “That’s great to hear,” said Decker.

  “The FBI folks finally came around, huh?” said Pierce.

  “Sounds like tensions have mellowed on that front, but Reeves and Kincaid will be there in a few hours. They’re headed up the coast with one of the RVs. Kind of an impromptu vacation.”

  “Good for them. They deserve it. Are they going to stick around for the night?” asked Decker.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I kind of hope they don’t,” said Brad. “I just want to chill with the crew.”

  “Me too,” said Decker. “And to be really honest, the FBI-safe versions of our war stories won’t be nearly as fun.”

  “That’s probably why they’re heading out,” said Harlow, laughing.

  Decker stopped the SUV directly behind the ramp and got out, opening her door, while Pierce hauled their rucksacks and rifles into the waiting aircraft. Sand and bits of debris gusted into the back seat, washing over her face. She coughed a few times and squinted from the dust in her eyes. Decker helped Harlow down from the SUV and pulled her close the moment she was clear, kissing her briefly but passionately.

  Harlow had never felt more relieved to see him than she had a few minutes ago. Back in Los Angeles, working the streets day in and day out, they faced the danger and uncertainty together. Even when they worked different cases, she knew what he was up against out there. The danger was real, but it was entirely manageable. And the job was the same for both of them, despite his affinity for seeking out trouble.

  But every time Decker flew off in Bernie’s plane or drove away with Pierce, the stakes skyrocketed, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever see him again. He disappeared into a world infinitely more lethal and unforgiving, where pure chance all too often spelled the difference between life and death.

  She’d gotten a taste of it enough times to know that both Decker and Pierce shouldn’t be alive. They hadn’t just defied the odds—they’d cheated the house. And the house always won if you played long enough. Harlow wanted him out before they collected on his overdue debt.

  “I really think we did it,” he said. “I spoke with Senator Steele on the way back from the data center. She was about to call APEX and deliver an ultimatum. More like a threat, backed by her considerable resources—and her new team.”

  “New team, huh?” she said.

  “I can always call Steele back and let her know we don’t mind scrambling for our lives once or twice a year,” said Decker.

  “Don’t you dare,” said Harlow. “We. Need. A. Break.”

  “That’s exactly what I told her,” said Decker, and he kissed her again.

  “You two lovebirds planning on driving back?” yelled Pam from the top of the ramp. “We’re kind of on a schedule here.”

  “Missed you, too, Pam!” said Decker, before taking Harlow’s hand. “You ready for this?”

  “As long as you promise this is the last time you take me on an airplane, I suppose one more ride on Bernie’s relic won’t kill me,” she said.

  “What if I wanted to take you to Paris or Amsterdam?” said Decker. “Or Hawaii?”

  “There’d have to be a really good reason for me to get on a plane for that long,” said Harlow.

  Like a marriage proposal, she thought—and almost blurted out.

  “Then I’ll have to come up with one,” said Decker. “I already have an idea in mind.”

  Buoyed by Decker’s surprising hint about their future, Harlow stepped onto the ramp and pulled him into the aircraft—entirely fearless.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  Ryan Decker hustled a bucket of ice-cold beers to the patio, where Pam was holding court with his parents and Garza. He could have kicked himself for not hiring a drink service along with the caterer. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend the money. He’d just assumed it wouldn’t be necessary for a beer-and-wine party. Bad assumption. Next time he’d listen to Harlow, which was what he’d said the last time. And the time before that.

  “There he is!” said Pam. “Thought you got lost!”

  “No. Just taking a nap again,” said Decker, placing the steel bucket between them. “Is my dad still making stuff up?”

  “No. We’ve moved on to more interesting stories about you growing up,” said Pam. “I never figured you for a Dungeons and Dragons type, Decker.”

  “Or a theater guy,” said Garza, fishing a bottle out of the bucket and handing it to Decker’s dad. “We got to hear all about your moving performance as Sonny in Grease.”

  “Jesus, Dad,” said Decker.

  “Don’t look at me. Your mom’s the one with the loose lips over here,” said Steven. “They’ve been plying her with wine.”

  “I’ve already hit my limit,” said Audrey, tapping the empty glass on the side table next to her. “So your secrets are safe for now.”

  “For now?” said Decker. “I’m going to have to keep an eye on this group.”

  He caught a glimpse of Brooklyn in the great room, looking stuck on the wide sectional couch that faced the valley behind their house. Seven months and at least that many major surgeries after the attack at the school, she still couldn’t walk without the use of a cane. After ensuring that his daughter had escaped, she’d continued to engage the APEX mercenaries until they’d pinned her down on the school’s front sidewalk.

  Unable to reach cover, she’d lain flat on her back with her feet facing the attackers, firing her pistol until she’d run out of ammunition, which very fortunately coincided with the arrival of the first LAPD units. By the time police officers had dragged her to safety behind a nearby parked car, she’d been hit eight times—seven bullets ripping through her feet and legs. He owed Brooklyn everything for what she’d done that morning.

  “Need a hand?” asked Decker, stepping into the spacious, airy room.

  “Was it that obvious?” said Brooklyn, trying to push herself up again and gently easing back down into the couch. “It’s really the shoulder more than anything. I can’t get the leverage to push myself far enough up. And this couch is huge. Sorry to drag you away from everything.”

  Decker helped her up. “This couch is like the deck of an aircraft carrier. And please don’t ever apologize for anything, or I’ll be forced to retell that little story about—you know—how you saved my daughter. Seriously. There’s no such thing as an inconvenience when it comes to you.”

  “Thank you,” she said, holding back tears.

  “Where would you like to sit?” said Decker.

  “Somewhere outside, please,” she said. “But not by Pam. She tends to get loud and a little obnoxious after she’s had a few drinks.”

  “I don’t think that has anything to do with the alcohol, to be completely honest, but it certainly aggravates the situation,” said Decker. “How about I set you up with Katie and Sandra? Sophie will naturally gravitate that way when she’s done making the rounds. Same with Jessica. That’s an easygoing group, and I know they like you.”

  “Sounds perfect,” she said.

  After relocating Brooklyn, he searched for Harlow, who was in the kitchen with the catering crew.

  “Everything running smoothly?” he asked, before giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  “I think so.
They’re going to set up on the dining room table. We’ll open the sliders so everyone can get to the food from the backyard, where the tables are set up. Everything will be ready in an hour.”

  “Awesome,” said Decker. “What else?”

  “They have an extra person who can serve drinks, unless you’re fine running back and forth to the coolers all night.”

  “Sold,” said Decker. “I will never doubt your wisdom again.”

  “Yes you will,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I’ll be right out. Everything should be on autopilot from this point forward. Nothing to do but relax and celebrate a birthday. And speaking of that, Riley was adamant that you do not give a long speech.”

  “So she’s fine with a speech?” asked Decker.

  “A short one,” said Harlow. “She wasn’t kidding.”

  “I believe you,” said Decker.

  The doorbell rang, which could mean only one thing—the Pierces had arrived. Within a month of the APEX finale, Brad and Anna had moved into a gated community in Calabasas, nestled into the Santa Monica Mountains about thirty minutes northwest of here. The decision to pick up and leave Denver had been an easy one.

  Their kids had fallen right back into place with Riley on the Alderpoint camping trip, enjoying themselves more than Anna had seen since they’d been forced into exile. On top of that, Harlow’s partners had convinced Anna that the Pierces’ security consulting business would thrive in Los Angeles, especially if it was directly affiliated with the firm. They had no shortage of ready clients and client leads.

  Decker sealed the deal when he convinced the Crossmount School directors to extend a full scholarship to Tommy and Nicki Pierce, in exchange for him not holding the school liable for the treachery committed by their chief security officer. The Pierces put Colorado behind them by selling their house outside Denver and giving their valley hideaway to Gunny. Having the Pierces back in their lives had helped bridge a little more of the gap that still existed between Decker and his daughter. Decker had finally returned something beyond himself that had been taken from Riley. He opened the door to welcome them.