“I found her over there.” He pointed across the vast, cold expanse of the unfinished concrete.
She followed him to the spot where he found Jenny, the floor marked with tiny drops of frozen blood.
“Has anyone been up here since you found her?” she asked, her breath coming in small white puffs.
“No. I have the only elevator key.”
“Well, look at this.” She thought aloud, pointing to a black metal gate closed over a missing window. “Where does this lead?”
“That’s a trash bunker,” he said. “It goes down the side of the building to a dumpster in the back parking lot. You use it to move stuff up or down. Kind of like a dumbwaiter.”
“Could a suspect have gotten Verde’s body out of the building without anyone seeing him using this?”
“I suppose it’s possible.”
“Who has access to it?”
“Only six people have keys, including me.”
“I’ll need that list.”
“Of course.”
Continuing to write notes, she shifted her feet to and fro, trying to fend off the biting cold. “Let’s get out of here. We won’t learn anything more until forensics gets through.”
Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “Mr. Casey, you realize that if I wanted to, I could detain you as a material witness.”
He said nothing.
Her expression softened, but very little. “But, I have a feeling that you just walked into an ugly situation. Am I right?” she asked, more a statement than a question.
“Yes, that's exactly what happened. I was just trying to help.”
Her eyes again met his. “Okay, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt…for now…but if Ryan contacts you, you call me, or else its obstruction. Understand?”
With no intention of ratting Jenny out, he lied through his teeth. “Don't worry Agent Raven. I just want her to be safe. If she calls or comes back, you’ll be the first to know.”
“And I will need that list of people who have keys as soon as possible. Now, you said you work here, on this floor?”
“Well, in a manner of speaking. I own Casey Construction.”
He let the admission sink in before continuing with no small amount of pride. “I built this building.”
“Really?”
Clearly unimpressed, he could almost hear her mind switch gears. “One last thing…was the security system for the offices we came from part of the original work, or was it installed later?”
“It was installed later, by some government types,” he let the intentional insult hang in the air before going on. “I didn't think too much about it. I didn't need to know, and I don't get paid to stick my nose in someone else’s business.”
“So you don’t know if there are any surveillance cameras down there.”
“I know there are some in the halls, but I don’t about the offices.”
She closed her notebook. “That's all for now, but remember what I said. If Dr. Ryan contacts you, don't let me hear it from someone else.”
“Okay. If I hear from her I’ll call you,” He scanned the room again and looked at his watch. “Agent Raven, I have a meeting to attend. I assume I’m free to go?”
Carla answered him with a polite dismissal, and a second, thinly veiled, warning. “Yes. You can go, but don't plan any trips out of town for awhile. I may need to talk to you again.”
He reached into his back pocket and drew out his wallet. Removing a business card, he passed it to her.
“I won't. You can reach me faster through my office. It's on 30, suite 2. Here’s the number.”
A few minutes later he stood in front of that very door. He went inside.
Chapter Twenty-One
The remainder of the trip to the Casey Construction office was short and uneventful, much to Brent’s liking. He approached the reception area and stopped dead in his tracks.
JUST PERFECT!
The glass and steel doors to the office were mostly transparent, except for the company logo sandblasted across the middle. He looked into the reception area, scanning the room and taking in the scene. The area was laid out in a semi-circle and on the other side of a big oak desk he could see two soldiers, one with a pistol hanging from his belt. Backing silently out of the doorway, he stepped back behind the corner of the wall. He didn't want to get put on ice again and several thoughts ran through his mind in quick succession.
Who are the guys with the guns? Why are they here?…and where the heck is Jenny?
More than a little scared and frustrated by recent events, he still couldn't believe his sister had gotten herself into so much trouble. He also instinctively knew that the people inside the office weren't there to help.
He slid the door open soundlessly. His pulse raced as he checked again to make sure he remained unobserved.
Crouching down, he crept along the floor, hiding behind a row of tall file cabinets that served as a divider between the reception area and the office cubes. He stopped, listening carefully. One man spoke and a deep, strong voice floated over the divider, causing him to freeze in place. Brent tried to make out the words over the sound of his own pulse now drumming a steady beat in his ears.
“Mr. Casey, you’re trying my patience!” The voice barked.
He crawled on his hands and knees along the floor a few more feet, trying to get a better look at the situation. Coming to the end of a low divider separating the office cubicles, he slowly raised his head, bringing the rest of the room into view.
Past the file cabinets and desks, a man, whom he guessed was Casey, sat in a chair in the middle of an open area. Next to him in an identical chair was a pretty red-haired woman. He noticed the fear visible in her eyes.
A tall man in an Army uniform stood looking down at the two of them with an air of smug superiority.
“Listen Mr. Casey, this is a matter of national security. That gives me some pretty broad powers. So, you better tell me what you know about Dr. Ryan's disappearance and it better be now!”
“I'm telling you everything I know, Colonel,” the man in the chair said. “I took her to my place but she left before I got up. I haven't seen her since.”
Colonel Alex Freemont puffed up his chest angrily.
“Well you better hope I find her fast, because until I do, you two will be detained as accessories. Miss Ryan is guilty of several felonies, she violated national security protocols and she isn't going to get away with it.”
Freemont pulled a cell phone from the pocket of his uniform jacket, dialed and began speaking. After a short pause he started yelling into the phone, his voice grating in direct proportion to his anger. Several seconds later, Brent noticed he seemed to regain some measure of control over his voice. He issued orders in deep, direct tones.
“Listen Private, I don't care who she is. You tell the judge I want the warrants issued now. Ryan’s out there somewhere and under the authority of the Science and Technology Act of 1947, I hereby order the arrest of Dr. Jennifer Jane Ryan, the seizure of her files and records and pending questioning, the detention of any persons having contact with her in the last thirty days. Do you understand?”
He paused to listen briefly, then yelled into the receiver again. “Do it now! Private, do I make myself clear?”
He angrily snapped the phone shut and glared at his prisoners.
Brent watched helplessly as Casey stood up, pointing an accusatory finger at the Colonel, his anger evident in his chiseled features. “You can't do that!”
As he spoke, the pitch of the voice climbed in direct proportion to his outrage. “This is still America, not Nazi Germany! We’re private citizens and private citizens are still protected from arrest by the military! You have to go before a federal judge to get a warrant!”
The colonel answered him in that calm, even tone people use on animals and very small children. “I can and I have. The SAT act and the contract Ryan herself signed give
me the authority,” His voice rose, sudden and sharp. “Now, sit down!”
Brent saw Casey’s face darken another shade. He sat back down, appearing dejected and humbled.
“Look, Colonel, I'm sorry about losing my temper. I just think it's unfair to hold us. You’re scaring my assistant. We didn't do anything and we don't know anything!”
“And how do I know that?” the soldier asked. “How do I know that you and your people weren’t in this from the start?”
“I told you before. I don't know anything about Ryan or her work. I never saw her before Saturday morning. You have to believe me!”
Freemont’s face darkened again as he turned to face his captives. “I see that you choose to lie to me, Mr. Casey. That's a bad way for us to start off our relationship.”
Freemont paced the floor as he continued his tirade. “I think you knew she intended to steal the project and exactly how she planned to do it. I'm going to ask one more time and then I'm going to order that you be taken into custody for a more thorough interrogation.”
Casey shook his head in disgust. “You’re out of your mind Colonel.”
Freemont wheeled on his heel, turning back toward his captives. “Now, for the last time, where is Jennifer Ryan?”
Casey grimaced in frustration, then answered him the same way he had the last several times he’d asked that same question. “I don't know. I told you, she left my house this morning and I haven’t seen her since.”
Still hiding, Brent listened incredulously. He knew his sister was no traitor and now he had someone who might know what happened to her. His first thought was to get some outside help.
Help would be good, but from where?
He searched his mind for a workable answer.
The local police? No. They would just turn me over to the Feds.
He had to assume that the feds where not only scouring the building, but had an alert out for him by now as well. Any local cop would run him through N.C.I.C. and presto! He would be in federal custody again.
For a fleeting second he visualized the well-constructed lady agent. She can cuff me anytime.
He knew he would have to do this on his own. He figured a distraction might allow him to free the two in the other room and see if they knew what happened to Jenny.
As his mind began to work on a plan, a faint noise startled him, sending tendrils of electricity racing along his nerves. After the split second rush that follows being surprised, he waited for the voice that would signal his capture. Two seconds passed, then five and still no one demanded his surrender. The staccato beating of his heart was now the only sound breaking the forced silence.
He turned around to face his adversary and what he saw almost made him laugh out loud. Behind him, in a little space between the desk and the file cabinet, the elegant, triangular face of a small white cat peered at him. Searching Brent with its large, inquisitive eyes, the cat acknowledged him with a wary meow. He put a hand to his mouth, stifling a laugh.
What the hell are you doing here? You about gave me a heart attack!
He also wondered if the man on the other side of the desk heard the noise. He didn't have to wait long to get his answer as the conversation between the others stopped in mid-sentence.
Freemont looked at the captives. “What was that?”
Aaron and Diane shook their heads in unison, feigning ignorance.
Freemont paused for the briefest of intervals, then barked out an order. “Private, go check it out. Bring anyone you find to me. You are authorized to use deadly force if necessary.”
Striding across the room, the lackey replied with a crisp and precise, “Yes Sir!” then disappeared around the corner.
Brent risked another quick look, studying the Colonel carefully. Although it had only been a few seconds, Freemont nervously paced the floor. While Freemont traversed the room, Brent waited until the Colonel had his back turned and waved to catch Casey’s attention. The man in the chair acknowledged him with a small nod of his head. Slowly moving around the end of the wall, Brent hid behind the desk and tried to come up with a distraction that wouldn't get the three of them arrested…or killed.
He stole another fleeting glance over the desk, watching Freemont and considering his options.
The other guard’s gone, but for how long?
The younger Ryan continued to surreptitiously observe the Colonel and noticed he didn't appear to be armed, but he was still a good twenty feet away. Drawing a deep breath, he knew the time to act was now, before the Private returned.
He quickly looked around the room again, hoping to find some kind of distraction, and then it appeared, as if by divine intervention. Sitting on the far corner of the desk, a crystal paperweight sparkled in a shaft of sunlight streaming in through the window across the room. Suddenly an idea struck, so simple it was almost too good to be true. He quickly grabbed the elegant decoration and hid himself again before Freemont turned around.
Brent turned the small, round piece of glass over in his hand and read the inscription. Diane, Thanks for always being on the ball – Aaron.
He leaned back against the wall, taking a deep breath. The guard returned to the office and Brent smiled inwardly, knowing that he had at least half a plan. He figured whatever he did to free the captives had to be quick, quiet, and it has to be now.
His heart thudding against his ribs once again, he hoped that when the right moment came, the rest would fall into place.
The lackey returned and gave Freemont his report. “No one in the area, Sir.”
Brent took a deep breath to steel himself.
“Are you sure, Private?” Freemont asked.
“Yes, Sir.”
Popping up like a demented Jack-in-the-box, Brent took a bead on the guard’s head. His natural athleticism paid off in spades as the three-inch glass sphere closed the distance in the blink of an eye, silently sailing across the room. The speeding glass ball tracked a perfect course, guided by a hasty prayer and sheer force of will. After what seemed like hours, the projectile found its target and with a faint “pop”, the private collapsed to the floor in a heap.
Hearing the dull ‘thunk’ of his subordinate hitting the carpet, Freemont whirled around to see the young man laying face down, limbs akimbo. Aaron took advantage of the break in his captor's concentration and lunged at the Colonel. Diane let out a startled scream at the sudden melee.
Freemont caught Aaron off balance, hooking his arm and levering him over a chair, the steel back ramming into his chest. He sucked in a sharp breath as the pain raced through his ribs.
He rolled just in time to dodge Freemont’s lunge and shot a quick right jab into the charging man’s washboard abdomen. The two men continued to grapple, breaking furniture and knocking over a bookcase, each fighting for control.
Freemont missed a blind punch at Aaron's face and Brent stifled an involuntary gasp as Aaron’s well-timed right connected with the soldier’s jaw, the crack of bone on bone resounding across the room. The blow sent the Colonel staggering backward, hitting the wall with a dull thud. Only momentarily stunned, Freemont came back to the attack with blood in his eyes. He landed two more punishing body blows to Aaron’s already screaming ribs, but the age difference made it difficult for the older man to gain any real advantage.
Aaron misread a signal and Freemont penetrated his defenses, finally connecting with a left to the chin. The stars exploded before Aaron’s eyes and he staggered, trying to remain conscious.
Emerging from her fear-spawned paralysis, Diane shot out of her chair. She darted across the room, unnoticed by the brawling pair and picked up a large flower arrangement from an end table. She raised the vase to strike.
A pistol, black and menacing, suddenly appeared from under Freemont’s jacket. “Freeze lady!”
Diane stared at the gun’s menacing barrel, still holding the heavy vase motionless above her head.
Freemont spat, a small bit of blood landing on the carpet, and backed away from
the two captives. Still pointing the automatic at the woman, he barked again. “Drop it!”
She looked at her boss, and seeing him nod, slowly lowered the vase to the floor.
Aaron stood immobile, afraid if he so much as flinched Freemont would pull the trigger.
Rubbing his swelling jaw, Freemont waved the gun back toward the chairs. “Get back over there!”
As he continued to hold the two at the barrel end of the 9 mm Beretta, he took a pair of handcuffs from the inert Private’s belt. As Freemont locked the cuffs to the chair, a small white blur flew past Aaron's face and Freemont’s piercing screams suddenly split the air. The Colonel writhed in a combination of pain and surprise, devastated by this new assault.
Rambo was less than thrilled about being tossed across the room and took out her frustrations on the nearest available target. She ripped and tore at her victim, digging her claws into his nose and opening up his face before the colonel could even begin to react.
The unfortunate man's instinct for self-preservation took over and he ignored the two prisoners. Cursing, the Colonel struggled with Rambo and tried to get away from the fur-covered razor blade.
Blood flowed like water from the cat’s handiwork and Freemont’s vision dimmed, turning crimson. In desperation, he grabbed a handful of fur and yanked her free. In a fit of rage and pain he threw the cat with all his strength. The lithe feline arched through the air, hitting the wall with an audible thump and fell to the floor, stunned into immobility.
Before the disoriented cat could recover, Freemont pointed the pistol and Aaron watched in horror, seeing the muzzle flash before the explosion rocked the room.
Freemont never saw Aaron close the gap between the two men, or pull back for the punch. Lifted off his feet by the sledgehammer blow, Freemont flew over a desk, collided with a support beam and collapsed in a landslide of uniform and medals.
Chain Reaction Power Failure Book I Page 15
