by Rachel Grant
“I get Logan for six months?” Nicole said, excitement in her voice. “What the hell did you promise him?”
Keith grinned. “I won a wager.”
Alec laughed. The Rubik’s cube was part of an ongoing wager between Alec and Keith, a bet Keith refused to concede. “What did you bet on?”
“He figured I was too old and too far removed from my glory days to kick his ass in a football-throwing contest.”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “Men are so easily manipulated by their egos. Too bad my sport was swimming.”
Outside his office, Alec heard Hans raise his voice in alarm. “You weren’t supposed to leave Mr. Ravissant’s suite.”
“I forgot to tell Alec I’m allergic to marble,” Isabel said. “And I’m seriously considering suing Raptor over the labyrinthine layout. I might have died if GI Jane here hadn’t found me and led me this way.”
“I didn’t lead her,” said a woman—probably Shauna Wells—in a defensive tone. “She followed me. I told her specifically to return to Rav’s quarters and not to follow me.” She paused. “You’re every bit the pain in the ass I’ve heard.”
“And here I was, hoping for this month’s congeniality award.”
Wells laughed. “Try again next month.”
“I find it difficult to string together thirty days of good behavior,” Isabel said.
Alec stood, leaving Nicole and Keith to argue over the power structure of the coming training, and opened his office door. He crossed his arms over his chest but couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Isabel’s gorgeous damp curls. “You can’t even manage one hour.”
She flashed him a sheepish grin. “I was going insane in your concubine palace. Rococo is really not my thing.”
“I need to work, Iz.”
She nodded. “I know that. I just want a computer. If you’d given me your password, I might have been a good little girl and stayed in the suite.”
Alec frowned, considering her request. If she were given a computer, she’d have access to the network. They still didn’t know who’d hacked into the system over the summer. Lee had fixed the leak, and he’d said the job was sophisticated—probably too sophisticated for the troublemaker who’d gotten the compound shut down. But still, he didn’t know for certain it wasn’t Isabel. And Nicole’s argument did have merit, dammit.
Much as he wanted to, he shouldn’t trust Isabel Dawson. Not completely.
Well, that answered the gut question, didn’t it? “No,” he said.
“Fine.” She pivoted on her heel and headed for the front door of the compound. “Then I’m going home.”
Chapter Eighteen
Isabel felt Alec’s distrust as a blow to the gut. She couldn’t even explain why it hurt so much, considering she’d made it clear she didn’t trust him. All she knew was that it rankled. Did he believe she’d actually been the person who assaulted him? Was he back to believing she’d abducted him?
Everything she’d done in the months since Vin’s death was for one purpose: to prove he’d been murdered. During their hike yesterday, Alec witnessed firsthand what it meant to her. For him to doubt her now took the wind out of her, made her question what she’d thought was a budding alliance.
She reached the glass partition that separated the stark foyer from the secure interior of the training complex.
“Iz, wait!”
She stopped with her hand on the door and asked herself why.
“You’re being a fool. Someone attacked you—twice. It’s not safe to leave,” Alec said.
She whirled to face him. “Since I was probably attacked by your men, I think it’s not safe for me to stay.”
Her voice echoed down the short corridor. Odds were, GI Jane, Hans, Nicole, and the new guy whom she hadn’t even met yet, all heard her accusation. Another reason she should probably leave.
Alec’s gaze narrowed. He pointed to the dome-enclosed camera mounted to the ceiling. “They don’t record sound, but if you shout, there’s not much we can do to keep the people we want to investigate ignorant of our suspicions.”
“Our suspicions. You say that like we’re a team, yet you just made it clear you don’t trust me.”
He crossed his arms. “You don’t trust me either.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
She was about to point out that she’d spent the last year believing he’d covered up her brother’s murder, but stopped. He’d likely spent the last year believing she wanted to sue him because she was greedy.
“Exactly,” Alec said as if he could read her mind.
“So what do we do?” she asked.
“Why do you want a computer?”
“I want to google infrasound. I still don’t even know what it is. And I want to know what Robert Beck was hiding here that required a stupid labyrinthine layout. And I want to know the shelf life of condoms.”
Alec startled at the last item on her list.
She pursed her lips. “Forget I said that last one.”
“I don’t think I will.” He raised a brow in question.
“You have a box of condoms in your nightstand.”
“So?”
She looked down. “I just wondered how long they’ve been there.”
Alec grinned. “Probably since I took over Raptor. I’m not even sure who stocked the suite, but it would be part of the standard kit.”
“Standard kit?”
“Raptor has five compounds. I have a suite at each one. But, similar to not wasting time with redecorating, I didn’t spend time stocking my quarters with toiletries. I have employees for that.”
“You have people whose job it is to keep you supplied with condoms?” Jesus, she’d known the guy was rich, but her brain was just starting to wrap around exactly how privileged he was.
He laughed. “Not condoms specifically. There’s a list of basic supplies. They go into everyone’s quarters. Much like the condoms that were in the prove-up cabin. Why are you so fascinated by the condoms?” His eyes lit with heat. “Are they a particularly kinky style or something?”
“I just sort of wondered… You said you’ve taken women to Paris to impress them. I wondered if you’d ever brought a woman here.”
His knowing grin made her face flush. It was irritating how easily she blushed. “I said when rich guys want to impress a woman. I’ve never actually done the private-jet-date-thing. I’ve never had someone I wanted to impress that much. And no, I’ve never brought a woman here. When I come to Alaska, it’s for work, not play.” He frowned. “Speaking of. I really need to get back to it. I’ll have Mothman set up a login for you and you can use the computer in my suite. Then you can google me and condoms all you want.”
“I googled you months ago.”
“Learn anything good?”
She smiled. “Just that there aren’t enough shirtless photos of you on the web.”
Alec grinned and ran his knuckles along her jawline. “I’ll give you a private viewing later, if you want.”
“In front of the fire. And I want a mug of hot chocolate.”
He leaned down and kissed her. “It’s a date.”
“Excuse me, boss, but this isn’t the time,” Nicole’s voice carried down the short corridor. “Wells is waiting, and I need to rework the shifts for the training now that Logan and Warner are coming.”
Alec turned to face Nicole. Isabel grinned at her from around his shoulder. “Sorry, Nic. It’s my fault.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.” She huffed out a sigh. “You should know, Isabel, security is always watching the public spaces inside the compound.” She pointed to the same security camera Alec had indicated earlier.
Isabel pushed Alec back and met Nicole’s gaze with her chin raised. “Thanks for the tip.”
Nicole cracked a smile. “Jesus, what am I going to do with you?”
Alec draped an arm around Isabel’s shoulder and headed down the corridor. “She’s my problem, Nic. Not yours.”
>
Outside Alec’s office, which was adjacent to Nicole’s, Hans sat behind his desk facing the tall African-American woman Isabel had dubbed GI Jane when the woman refused to give her name. Another man Isabel didn’t recognize stood in the doorway to Alec’s office. He was speaking with the others but broke off midsentence when Alec returned.
Alec promptly introduced Isabel to Keith Hatcher, who gave her an assessing look as he shook her hand, but his words were friendly. “Thanks for saving Rav’s life. He’s an ungrateful bastard, but the rest of us are thankful.” He winked at her.
She couldn’t help but smile at the future CEO. “He was pretty whiney when injured too.”
“Rangers.” Keith scoffed. “SEALs know how to take an ass-kicking without complaint.”
Behind her, Alec laughed. To Hans, he said, “Call Mothman and tell him to set up a login for Isabel, then inform Quinault he’s giving Isabel shooting lessons in the firing range in an hour.”
“Shooting lessons?” She turned and gave Alec a skeptical gaze. “This is Alaska. They issue new residents a gun and NRA membership at the border. I know how to shoot.”
“Are you any good?”
“No.”
“Then you need a lesson. Ethan Quinault is my best firearms instructor.”
“Were you hoping I wouldn’t realize he’s my babysitter?”
“A little,” he admitted.
“I don’t need a sitter.”
“But you do need to learn how to shoot. You should probably carry a gun from now on.” He smiled. “And bear spray too, I think.”
Isabel started with the definition in the American Heritage online dictionary: in·fra·sound (ĭn'frə-sound′) n. A wave phenomenon sharing the physical nature of sound but with a range of frequencies below that of human hearing.
It was a start, but rather inadequate for her needs. A general search turned up the information that elephants, whales, hippopotami, giraffes, rhinoceroses, and alligators use infrasound to communicate over distances. Interesting, certainly, but not exactly the information she was looking for. She typed infrasound weapons in the search bar and hit pay dirt. Most of the articles were speculative, and some included conspiracy theories, but even the most respectable sources indicated that infrasound could be used as a weapon as certain frequencies caused headaches, nausea, and people subjected to intense infrasound had been known to pass out. It was believed but not confirmed that the Nazis had tested infrasound on human subjects during World War II.
Information on infrasound and memory loss was less reliable. Not surprisingly, given the harsh effects, documented tests on human subjects were inadvertent, and not in a controlled laboratory environment, making it impossible to track the effect on human memory.
One article spelled out the basic known ways infrasound could harm humans in simple terms.
Lower than twenty hertz in frequency—the limit of human hearing—means humans perceive infrasound as pressure rather than noise. This pressure will cause the human body to vibrate, with specific frequencies having known effects on certain organs. Fluids and gases in the body will stretch when subjected to the frequency, but organs have limits on how much pressure-induced stretching and contracting they can accommodate. Infrasound is low in hertz, but can still have a high decibel level. It is at these high decibel levels that the human body reacts to the inaudible sound waves.
At 130 decibels, the human ear will experience direct pressure distortion that can affect the ability to hear and understand speech. At 150 decibels, people experience nausea and whole-body vibrations. Above 165, vibration of the lungs triggers breathing problems. The critical point is felt around 175 decibels, when, if the hertz level is between .5 to 8, an artificial, abnormal breathing rhythm can be induced.
Isabel wasn’t entirely certain she understood the difference between hertz and decibels, but figured the gist was that even though infrasound wasn’t audible, it still could be loud. The louder it was, the stronger the vibration, and the worse the effects on the human body.
And someone—the CEO of Apex, Simon Barstow?—had figured out a way to make a directional silent weapon that subjected the body to the harmful low-hertz, high-decibel sound waves.
How far away did the person need to be to use the weapon? Had she been hit when she reached the middle of the river simply because it was the deepest, and therefore most dangerous point, or was that when she’d stepped into the weapon’s range?
There were any number of hiding places on either bank. Anyone who was familiar with the search for Vin could have guessed Alec would take her to the river where he crossed. No need to follow them all morning. Just wait by the river—possibly in the same place they’d hidden when they shot Vin with the same infrasound weapon.
She was certain Vin had been subjected to infrasound in the river. It explained why he finished the crossing, even though it was the wrong direction—heading away from shelter.
Was Vin targeted because they’d tested the weapon on him in the cave? Was the torture he’d experienced infrasound? It would explain the lack of marks on his body, and the brief jolt of it she’d felt in the river had hurt like hell. She could easily understand why prolonged or repeated exposure would feel like cruel and unusual punishment.
She typed in Apex and Simon Barstow in the search engine but found nothing that indicated Apex was experimenting with infrasound. Given their development of Airwave, it made sense that they might be working with infrasound as well.
She read article after article about Barstow and Apex but couldn’t figure out why he’d test his weapons on Vin when he had a legitimate laboratory for weapons development. Granted, human testing wasn’t an option, but he wouldn’t be able to use the data gathered from illegal human testing to get his weapons approved anyway.
A knock on the suite door reminded her of the time. Research hour was over; her babysitter had arrived.
The indoor firing range was located in the lowest level of the compound, a partially underground basement—the only subterranean construction possible in the subarctic due to the hazards of building on permafrost. The floor lacked traditional corridors that could trap heat. Instead, the basement had occasional short sections of wall punctuated by thick metal posts in the otherwise vast, open space. The posts, Isabel knew, were necessary to hold the heat and pressure of the four-story structure above the permafrost, to prevent the soil from thawing, which would cause the building to buckle.
Glancing upward at the massive building, she shuddered at the thought of the structure collapsing on top of her.
“You get used to it,” Ethan said. “It’s better inside the range, because it isn’t under the building—it’s adjacent. For safety, the firing range is a big underground cavern with reinforced but natural walls. Stray bullets can hit the dirt without causing damage to the building.”
She shot him a speculative glance. “I had no idea the compound had this big a footprint. A lot of earth was moved to build this place. Too bad no one did an archaeological survey first.”
Ethan shrugged, too even-tempered to rise to the bait. A regular at the roadhouse, he’d joined her for drinks several times in the last few months, and she liked him. “Not my problem. The facility was built before I was hired.”
True, as Ethan had joined Raptor sometime after Alec purchased the company, and, if she remembered correctly, he was from Pennsylvania, or some other eastern state. “How did you end up here?” she asked.
“Rav begged me. Made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“You knew him before?”
“Yeah. I taught him how to shoot when he was fresh out of diapers.”
Isabel laughed. “Before he joined the Army?”
“No. Right after. He joined up, then realized he couldn’t shoot worth a damn. He was terrible. A menace. He was going to kill someone, and it wasn’t the enemy. But Richie Rich doesn’t know how to be bad at something. It offends him. So during his first furlough from boot camp, he showed up at my door a
nd offered me an obscene amount of money to teach him how to shoot. Over a weekend.”
“And did he learn in two days?”
“Hell, no. But he came back during his next furlough. And the next one. The man didn’t take a decent break for a year. But at the end of that year, he qualified for sniper training.”
“He was a sniper?”
“Nah. The Rangers had other uses for him.”
“Do you like Alec? Personally, I mean?” It was a forward question, and she didn’t really expect an honest answer if he didn’t, but she’d gotten to know Ethan well enough over the last several months to think he might tell her the truth, and she was curious, especially because he’d known Alec for more than a decade.
“I do, actually. He was intense at twenty-two. So determined to prove himself. Prove that he earned his place in the world, that nothing was given to him because of his family’s money. He’s mellowed over the years. I think being a Ranger knocked that chip off his shoulder—like he’d proved it and was done. I think he’s less embarrassed by the wealth now.”
“And yet he wasn’t afraid to use it back then—to hire you to teach him how to shoot.”
“He’s too smart not to use the money to his advantage. And he still had to do the learning. Money can’t make you a crack shot. Only practice will do that.”
At last they reached a thick steel door cut into the foundation wall. Ethan typed a code into the keypad, and the door opened, revealing another vast chamber separated into six long lanes, like a bowling alley, but these lanes were about four times longer. Ethan made a beeline for a large safe situated on this side of a counter that defined the firing line.
His fingers danced over the safe’s keypad, and a buzzer sounded. A moment later, the door released.
“What’s with the buzzer?”
“It means security has been alerted that the gun safe has been opened.” He pointed to the dome mounted to the ceiling in front of the safe. “Security monitors this room. If they see an unauthorized person accessing the gun safe—even if the person uses a correct code—they can lock down the safe.”
