Checking over his shoulder for any sign of pursuit, he made his way quietly to the bank of elevators nestled in a paneled alcove. He pushed the button for the 30th floor, smiling at his ingenuity as the doors silently slid closed.
I can’t believe that old ruse worked. Federal agents are supposed to be smarter that.
Brent Ryan had in fact gained one and a half minutes on Agent Marco. The small lead was enough to get him to the elevator and away without a trace.
“Shit!” Marco cursed to the empty room. Angry and embarrassed, he slammed the restroom door, the loud bang echoed off the walls.
He ran down the hall, pulling out his cell phone as he moved. He had to tell Raven about Ryan’s escape. Before he dialed his superior, he suddenly had second thoughts. Knowing Raven tolerated no mistakes…from herself or anyone else, he wasn’t looking forward to either the scorching reprimand or the desk duty he was sure would follow the revelation. He snapped the phone shut, decision made.
I’ll find that little rat-bastard myself…and kick his ass!
Chapter Nineteen
The world slowly began to come into sharp focus and so did the throbbing in Jenny’s head. She looked up at the ceiling above and wondered where she was. Fighting back a heavy jolt of overwhelming panic the disorientation brought, she tried to sit up. The thunder in her head quickly ballooned to monumental proportions. The roar of blood in her ears and the concussions joined, turning the room into a twisting kaleidoscope of flashing lights and searing pain. She sagged back onto the pillows.
Okay, bad idea.
She took several deep breaths, lying still long enough for the swirling cloud of electric sparks to subside. She forced her swelling apprehension under control and tried to engage her rational mind, analyzing her surroundings.
The room she found herself in was very posh. On the far-away wall, an inlaid door beckoned from the end of a long marble platform, apparently thousands of miles away. Heavy drapes covered the windows, their velvet length shimmering in an elegant green and gold paisley design. Jenny lay in the king-sized bed for several minutes before daring a second attempt at sitting up. The results were the same. The dancing sparks returned, followed by a flash-fire of burning pain that threatened to pop her eyes from their sockets. She grimaced, riding out the internal torture and waiting for her head to clear.
While rubbing her temples, she began to remember some of what happened. She recalled climbing stairs at the Tower building, events now returning in disconnected waves. As she continued to piece together her jigsaw puzzle of memories, the door opened and a man entered the room. She eyed the stranger, a large forty-ish, man, warily as the reality of her situation began to coalesce.
My God! They found me. I’ve been kidnapped!
Still a little too woozy to be truly terrified, she stared at the new arrival as he approached her bed. The unidentified man placed the tray he carried on the gold-leafed night table. He looked at her for several seconds and then spoke.
“I see you’re awake. How do you feel?” He asked, his clear, strong voice filling the room.
She ignored the question, instead asking one of her own. “Where am I?”
She watched him intently as he contemplated an answer. The man moved slowly back to the foot of the bed and stopped. He turned to look back at her, the icy gaze sending tendrils of dread crawling over her skin.
“Let’s just say you’re under my protection and, provided you give me the information I want, you’ll stay that way.”
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice shaking. “And what do you want from me?”
“My name is unimportant, and what I want is very simple. You developed a device called the ‘Ever-cell’, and I want it.”
A hot spike of adrenaline blazed in her veins, her mouth dropping open in shock.
How did this man know about Ever-cell?
She stalled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“My dear Doctor Ryan,” he turned back to face her again, his artificial kindness disappearing. “I will have the Ever-cell project. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. It’s your choice. You eat, and when I come back you can tell me what you’ve decided.”
He spun on his heel and headed for the door. Alone again in the unsettling quiet, Jenny listened to the ticking of the clock on the wall. She tried to steady her trembling hands and thought about what her captor had said, searching in vain for a way to control her mounting panic.
Thirty minutes later he returned, this time with a woman, one Jenny didn’t immediately recognize. Her eyes widened as she followed the woman’s movement toward her.
“Hello, Dr. Ryan.” the new-comer said.
Walking to the table next to the bed, Trish Davenport picked up the untouched tray, examined it briefly, then set it down again.
“I see that you didn’t eat anything, I’m sorry the cuisine couldn’t be more to your liking.”
“Why are you keeping me here?” Jenny demanded.
“You already know the answer to that, now don’t you?” Trish answered, the condescending tone sending shivers of repugnance down her spine.
Using false bravado as a front, she struggled with the growing terror threatening to run away with her mind. Trying to appear confident, she went on the offensive. “You know, you won’t get away with this! The police will be looking for me!”
Trish correctly saw through the captive’s mask, her stoic expression not changing as she spoke.
“Actually, they already are. You see, they think you stole the plans for the Ever-cell project and fled. So I wouldn’t count on getting help from them any time soon.”
Jenny’s face turned a pale ash and her eyes widened in disbelief, the false bravery deflating with an almost audible pop. A red veil tinged her vision as her anger rose. In a last-ditch effort to gain some control she lashed out. “You’re lying,” she yelled. “They wouldn’t…couldn’t…think I’d steal my own research!”
Trish just smiled slightly at her captive. “Well, Dr. Ryan, in a strange way the police are right. You see, you are going to give us the plans for the battery.”
Jenny listened as the shock, anger and fear mixed in her head, becoming one giant porcupine of jagged emotion.
She drew a deep breath. “You’re the one who’s wrong. I couldn’t give you the designs even if I wanted to. They’re far too complicated. Even if I told you everything, there are volumes of data that make up the project. They’re unfinished. They aren’t any good to anyone but me.”
Trish approached the head of the bed and stopped, looking down at her captive.
“We will be the judges of what’s good to us or not.” Her tone, cold and menacing, chilled Jenny to the bone as a new wave of fright raced over her.
In a sudden flash of movement, Trish produced a syringe from her pocket, grabbed Jenny’s right arm, and injected the contents before she could offer even token resistance.
In a desperate, useless, act of defiance, Jenny slapped Trish with a stiff right cross, the crack resounding through the room. Clark, standing on the other side of the bed, grinned at the exchange.
Jenny pulled her arm away from the needle, only too late. “You bitch! What the hell was that?!”
Trish backed away from the bed, rubbing her stinging cheek. “Don’t worry doctor. It’s just a little something to help us communicate better.”
She suddenly felt a fiery warmth moving in her body, horror spreading right along with it. She watched with a detached, morbid fascination as the room began to bend and twist. Distorted into heaving, undulating waves, the walls shifted and rolled before her eyes.
Part Three - Into The Lion's Den
Chapter Twenty
Aaron opened the door to his apartment and called out. “Hello, Jenny! I’m back. Sorry it took so long.”
He dropped his keys into the basket on the hall table, continuing the one-sided conversation. “The meeting went well, so I get to start on the new floor tomorrow, as planned
.”
He went to the living room and didn’t see anyone.
Where is she?
Moving quietly through the apartment, he walked down the hall into the guestroom and was surprised to find it empty as well. He then went to see if she was in the master bedroom.
Not here either. What gives?
His anxiety climbing up a notch, he knocked on the closed bathroom door. Even after recent events, he didn’t want to assume the worst, yet.
“Jenny! Are you in the bathroom?” He called out.
No answer. This is not good.
He pushed the door open, finding the room vacant.
She was not in the apartment. As small clouds of alarm formed on the horizon of his mind, he searched for reasons she might leave of her own accord and they were dammed few. He considered what he thought of as the most likely scenario; that she tired of waiting for him to return and went to her place to get her things, alone.
I hope I’m wrong, but I doubt it.
He tried looking in the phone book, knowing it would be a long shot and he was right, she didn’t have a listed number.
How the hell am I going to find her?
Aaron had wanted, tried, to keep her safe, and now she was gone. His stomach hardened into a tight, painful ball at the thought of her blindly walking back into danger. He knew that he would never forgive himself if anything bad happened to her.
He scoured the phone book a second time, looking for alternate listings as an even more frightening idea came to him.
What if she went to her office? If she went back to Diversified…Oh, Christ!
The human mind is a strange place and the dark side of his imagination took him to all the terrible things that could be happening to her at this very moment. He couldn’t get the picture of Jenny, beaten and unconscious, out of his mind. He knew he had to go to her office. It was the only place he could think of to start looking for her.
He grabbed Rambo from her chair and left the apartment. He knew some people might think he was nuts for dragging a cat with him all the time, but Rambo, pretty much his best friend, calmed his nerves and he needed that right now.
After stopping and asking Jimmy Dentella to keep an eye peeled for his wayward guest, he headed to the Tower building. His pulse quickened as he strode through the cold afternoon air. He knew he had to find her…before her enemies did.
After dropping Rambo off at his office, Aaron headed downstairs, toward Diversified Research Incorporated. His shoes sinking into the rich carpet as he made his way to the elevator, he exited at the 28th floor and turned right. Steps quickening, he moved down the long passage, working his way to a set of double doors at the end of the corridor.
Pulling the door open, he jumped to one side while a tall man in a dark suit silently hurried past, a cell phone at his ear, a gold badge hanging from his jacket pocket.
Excuse me! Aaron thought, you rude S.O.B.!
He entered the reception area and discovered it crowded with police officers, a thin ribbon of yellow tape stretching from wall to wall.
He approached tape, motioning to the nearest officer. “Who’s in charge here?”
The officer pointed to a tall, slender woman at the other end of the room. The officer moved to her side and leaned close, whispering something in her ear.
Aaron noted the brunette hair captured at the back of her head accented a beautiful oval face and flawless complexion.
She looked up from her notes, made eye contact with Aaron, and began moving toward him.
“Excuse me, I'm looking for the officer in charge,” Aaron said.
“Well you found her, Mister…” She hesitated, allowing him to give his name.
“I'm Aaron Casey. What’s all the commotion?”
“I'm Special Agent Carla Raven of the FBI, and this is a crime scene. What is your business here?”
“I'm trying to locate someone who works here, Jennifer Ryan.”
Standing five-feet, nine inches tall, Carla Raven sported the athletic good looks and healthy glow of her Southern California upbringing, minus the blond hair and obligatory, though in her case unnecessary, silicone enhancements.
Eyebrow lifting in curiosity, she responded to Aaron’s inquiry. “What is your interest in Miss Ryan?”
“She is an acquaintance. I'm just trying to find her.”
“When was the last time you saw her?” Carla said, removing a pad from the jacket of her form-fitting suit, and preparing to take notes.
“She was at my home this morning, and when I came home this afternoon she was gone.”
He pointed to all the activity. “What is going on here?”
“I think I’ll ask the questions if you don’t mind,” she replied sharply, “You said Ms. Ryan was at your home this morning?”
“Yes.”
“Want to tell me why?” her tone left no question as to answering or not.
“As I said, we are acquainted.”
“What makes you think she would come here?”
“I’d rather not say.”
Carla took a deep breath, ample breasts drawing her jacket tight across her chest. Her stare hardened, the blue eyes boring into his. “And I’d rather not have to ask again.”
He said nothing, his intense gaze never flinching from hers.
She went on, undaunted. “Mr. Casey, I’m only going to say this once. I’m investigating a crime and Ms. Ryan is a lead. I want everything you know about her whereabouts between the hours of six p.m. Friday night and the present. No exceptions, no omissions. Understand?
He considered his response for several seconds while his eyes met hers in a hard stare. He watched as she shifted stance from foot to foot in annoyance at the delay.
“Well, I can tell you she didn’t kill anyone on Friday night.” He said, the voice steady and confident.
“I didn’t say anyone was killed,” her condescending attitude was not lost on him.
“Well, you’re a federal agent, so I figured it wasn’t a parking violation.”
“You say she couldn’t have killed anyone, and how do you arrive at that conclusion?”
Sarcasm gave his answer a hard edge. “The reason that I can say that with some degree of certainty, Agent Raven, is that I found her on the thirty-first floor of this very building at two o'clock Saturday morning and she was in no condition to harm anyone.”
“Really? What do you mean by ‘no condition’, was she drunk or something?”
Raven’s pen moved quickly, the shorthand’s complicated characters appearing on the pages as if by magic.
“Not hardly.” he stopped to take a breath, once again seeing Jenny’s bruised and contused face flash before his eyes. He cleared his throat and went on. “She was beaten half to death and then dumped behind the trash bunker upstairs.”
“What did you do, call 911?”
He knew she was trying to bait him. He assumed she had already checked the 911 phone logs.
“No, she asked me to get her out of the building and I did.”
“So you took her to the hospital. Which one?”
As she waited for him to answer, she pulled out her cell phone, and he knew she was ready to send a team to pick Ryan up.
“None. I took her to my place and brought in a private nurse to look after her.”
“If she was so badly injured, why didn't you take her to a hospital?”
He raised his voice slightly, his irritation beginning to grow beyond his control. “Agent Raven is all this really necessary? The point is, she is missing and I’d like to find her…as quickly as possible.”
Carla elevated her voice, matching his in volume and intensity. “Just answer the question, please.”
“Well, if you must know, she was afraid to go to a hospital. She didn't think she would be safe there.”
“And did she say why she wouldn't be safe in a hospital?”
“I don't know Agent Raven,” he launched in angry retort, his frustration growing by the second. “Co
uld it be because someone tried to kill her a few hours before?”
“Did she tell you why someone would want to hurt her?”
“No, she didn't”
“How did she explain the attack?”
“She was still pretty out of it and really didn't say much,” he said. “I thought it was a mugging. Was I wrong?”
“You know I can't comment on an on-going investigation.” She said, her pen continuing to blaze across the pages.
“Can you tell me who the victim was?” he asked.
She paused for a second before answering. “It's already been released to the press. So, I guess it won't hurt. His name was Jackson Verde. He was an employee here.”
His heart skipped several beats, fear freezing the breath in his chest.
God, no! First Jenny gets attacked, now her boss is dead! What the hell is going on?
He quickly put a tight lid on his vaulting emotions. “When did this happen?”
“Friday night.”
“How did he die?”
“You know I can’t tell you that.” She chastised. “Let’s get back to Ryan. You said you found her on a different floor?”
“Yes, up on 31,” he said, pointing toward the ceiling.”
“Show me. Please.”
Back in the elevator the ride took only seconds before the car stopped. Aaron pulled a small, brass key from his pocket and inserted into a lock on the wall-mounted control panel. He turned the key and a blast of arctic air hit the occupants as the doors slid aside.
“After you.” He said.
Raven wrapped both arms around her body against the cold. “It’s freezing in here. Why is it so cold?”
“This floor is not under construction yet. It’s just storage for building materials, so I don’t have the heat on. No one except my guys are supposed to be up here.”
He led her through the labyrinth of pallets to his field office; essentially a plywood box the size of a walk-in closet, located in the center of the crowded floor. He unlocked the door. Moving to a grey cabinet bolted to the wall, he opened the circuit breaker panel and flipped the switches one at a time, turning on the florescent lights bank by bank. The artificial illumination grew, driving back the dark shadows to reveal a maze of building materials neatly stacked, awaiting the skilled craftsmen who would transform them into elegant office space.
Chain Reaction Power Failure Book I Page 14
