Finally getting back to her BlackBerry, she looked through the telephone numbers included in the report Frank James sent via email.
Well, well. Somebody at Casey’s apartment called Ithaca, New York yesterday. If it was Dr. Ryan, why did her brother tell me he hadn’t heard from her?
Haunted by a nagging sense of inaction boiling on the back burner of her mind, she silently cursed Marco for letting the younger Ryan escape.
He better find him pretty dammed soon, too! Or he’ll spend the rest of his career busting teenagers for illegal music down-loading.
She continued working her way through the list and stopped at the only other call from outside the greater Boston area.
Where the hell is Cumberland, Rhode Island? And, why would Casey be getting calls from there?
She checked the number. A commercial line, registered to a ‘Big Ed’s Auto Salvage’ in Cumberland, owner’s name, Ed O’Brian.
She pulled up the address with a few more taps at the screen. “1540 N. Mendon Road.” she said aloud.
Leaving the pub, she put the phone back in her pocket and stepped out into the night. The frigid air enveloped her like a wet blanket. She shivered against the biting cold.
God, sometimes I miss San Diego. It might be the land of fruits and nuts, but at least it’s warm.
Returning to her office, Carla pulled up the file on Ed O’Brian and consulting her computer mapping program, discovered Cumberland, Rhode Island is only 55 miles from Boston.
Might mean something, might mean nothing.
She continued scanning the file and was surprised to see it read much like Casey’s. Cross-checking the two, she found he and O’Brian grew up in the same town and served in the same unit.
This can’t be a coincidence. I guess I’m going to Rhode Island.
She checked her watch.
9:25, guess it will have to wait until morning. I’ve got to get some rest.
Carla awoke early the next day and got her coffee to go, trying to miss the rush hour traffic. She had an appointment with the medical examiner to see Verde’s autopsy results before heading to Rhode Island to track down O’Brian. It was nearly noon before she finally got on the highway.
After getting her first good night’s sleep since the case began, her mind raced in anticipation as she made her way south on Interstate 93, leaving the crowded city behind. She buzzed with an inexplicable sense of confidence in the lead on Casey, and taking her first trip outside the city since arriving months ago was just a bonus.
With the traffic and noise behind her, she looked out the side window, taking in the winter scenery as the countryside rolled by. Intermittent shafts of sunlight broke through the scattered clouds overhead, glistening off the new snow. The frozen drifts spread out before her, a white blanket covering the ground and dappling the branches of the evergreens along the road.
“My God, it’s like a postcard.” She said to the otherwise empty car.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Clark paced the room, his footsteps echoing loudly in the pervasive stillness of the abandoned factory’s one-time office. “Look Casey, why don’t you just give me what I want and we can make this a lot easier on all of us.”
He fell into another dilapidated chair next to the door, his pistol unconsciously sweeping back and forth across the cold room.
Jenny spoke before Aaron had a chance to answer. “What makes you think he can help you? He doesn’t know anything about my project.”
Aaron turned, holding up his hand to silence her. “Jenny, just let me handle this. I promise, it’ll be all right.”
His eyes sought hers, forcefully conveying the message of danger intentionally missing from his voice. He turned back to Clark. “First thing, we get out of this freezing dump,” he pointed toward Jenny. “And she goes to a hospital.”
Clark’s laughter split the air. “Ha! Nice try.”
He pointed the revolver at Jenny, pulling back the hammer. “She’s not going anywhere until I get what I came for.”
Aaron stepped between the gun’s polished barrel and the helpless woman sitting in the chair. “Look, we both know she can’t tell you anything she hasn’t already. Just let her go and I’ll give you what you want.”
Jenny’s eyes widened in surprise and her face paled to a dull ash gray. “Aaron, don’t do it! You can’t help them!”
He never took his eyes off the man in front of him as he answered. “Jenny, whatever this project is, no matter how important you think it is, it’s not worth your life.”
She glared at him. “How can you do this?” The rage bubbled in her strained voice. “I trusted you!”
Finally turning to face her, he pointed back at the other man. “This man will kill you and then take what he wants. I’m just trying to get you out of this alive.”
She lifted her chin in defiance, still holding his gaze. “I’d rather die than give my work to someone like him!”
“That can be arranged.” Clark’s icy voice echoed off the dirty plaster walls. “Actually, I’d prefer it that way.”
Clark walked over to the sitting woman and turned her upraised chin with the gun barrel, forcing her to look him in the face. “He’s right Dr. Ryan. I will do whatever is necessary to get what I came for. Your life is…immaterial.”
Quiet until now, Trish stepped into the middle of the room. “All right, enough! Casey, where are the plans? Give them to us and you walk.”
Eyes boring into his partner, Clark’s face suddenly became a rigid mask of steel. “Trish, I won’t tell you again, I’m in charge here and I make the decisions, not you.”
She ignored the threat and her partner’s menacing stare.
Aaron rubbed his hands together to warm them, the room suddenly much colder. “I’ll tell you when you release us.”
Trish pointed a long slender finger at him for emphasis, her cold stare belying a calm demeanor. “I’m not screwing around. If you want to live, you better give us what we want.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “I’m not screwing around either lady. I know dammed well the minute you get your hands on those plans, we become expendable.”
Clark butted in, dropping the hammer back down and waving the gun at Aaron. “You’re expendable now.”
Aaron sat on the corner of a small desk, looking back at Trish. “I have a counter-proposal. I arrange to have the plans delivered to you, and you let us go.”
“Aaron, don’t do this!” Jenny screamed in frustration, struggling at her bonds. “You don’t know what it would mean!”
He turned on her, raising his voice for the first time. “I know exactly what it would mean! It means you get to live!”
Jenny shouted again “AARON!...”
She never finished the sentence. Aaron watched as Clark pushed the heavy pistol against her temple, her eyes turning to saucers at the feel of cold steel.
Trish studied Aaron’s face for a long moment. “Okay.”
Aaron again met Trish’s eyes. “How do I know you’ll keep your end of the deal?”
Clark answered for his partner, his smile a wicked Jack-O-Lantern grin, “You don’t. You just have to trust us.”
The irony was not lost on Aaron. “That doesn’t instill me with a lot of confidence.”
“But, it’s really your only choice,” Trish said. “I think you know that.”
Clark turned the gun away from his captive’s head and joined the other two standing next to the heater. Eyes burning with inner rage, he backhanded Trish with a sharp slap across the face. “I said I wasn’t going to warn you again. For the last time, I make the decisions here.”
Trish gingerly rubbed her burning cheek as her eyes flickered in shock and hatred. She dabbed at her lip, tasting the blood. “You son of a bitch! Where do you get off hitting me!”
Clark ignored her scathing censure, turning to Aaron instead. “So tell me, if I agree, how’s this ‘exchange’ going to work?”
He dared to breathe again and
thought for a few tense seconds before answering. “I call my secretary and tell her I need some disks from my safe. She messengers them, thinking they’re routine stuff. That way you leave her out of it, right?”
Clark shrugged his shoulders, “As long as she follows your orders. Go on.”
He paused for a few brief seconds, formulating the plan as he went. “She sends them to a hotel, with a note for you to pick them up at the front desk. I’ve sent things to business associates this way dozens of times.”
Clark laughed again. “And I’m supposed to believe they’ll be there?”
He nodded in reassurance. “They’ll be there. We’ll both have a little insurance to guarantee it.”
Still glaring daggers at Clark, Trish shot Aaron a puzzled look. “Insurance? What kind of insurance?”
“When you let Dr. Ryan go, I tell you which hotel they’ll be at, and in whose name,” he paused again, seeing the pair contemplating his plan. “And when you have them, you let me go.”
Clark scratched his unshaven chin in thought. “And what if we decide not to let you go after we get the disks?”
Aaron stood up and gave a non-committal shrug of his shoulders. “Well, it’s a risk I’ll have to take. I still think you’re more interested in money than murder.”
Clark took several seconds to consider Casey’s plan and his options. “How do I confirm authenticity? Dr. Ryan would have to stay with us until we did.”
Jenny interrupted the conversation, giving Trish an imploring look. “The plans are encrypted. You’ll never get them open. They won’t be any good to you.”
Aaron had correctly assumed any data that important would be encrypted, and the last piece of his plan to save their lives fell into place. “She could give you the decryption code from the hospital, by phone.” he said, looking toward Jenny and receiving the death-stare in response. “Right?”
Jenny turned her attention back to Clark. “I won’t do it. You can kill me if you must.”
Clark raised the pistol, aiming it at Jenny’s chest. “I won’t kill you if you don’t give me the code,” he said, swinging the barrel toward Aaron. “I’ll kill him.”
Color draining from her face, the tears again fell from her cheeks. “What choice do I have?” she groaned while she shook her head in despair and resignation. “My God, You’re a monster!”
Reaching into her pocket, Trish pulled out a disposable cell phone and handed it to Aaron. “Make the call… and I assume you are smart enough not to try anything that will get you and the doctor killed, like dialing 9-1-1.”
He punched the numbers as he watched the tears run down Jenny’s cheeks. She silently glared at him, her pale face a combination of shock, fear and loathing.
With Clark listening over his shoulder, Aaron spoke quietly into the phone for just a few seconds before he snapped it shut.
“It’s all set. Now, we wait.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Seeing the street sign appear, Carla turned off the pavement, tires crunching on the new snow as she slowly moved up the driveway of Big Ed’s Auto Salvage.
The caustic odors of burned gear oil and rotting upholstery assaulted her nose as she stepped from the car into the freezing air. Slipping on the ice, she put one hand down to prevent a fall, the snow burning her palm. “Damn!” she cursed.
Getting back to her feet, she resolved to buy a more practical pair of winter shoes as soon as she got back to the city. She cautiously made her way to the door marked office and stepped into the warm interior.
Weaving between the engine blocks and transmissions lying on carts in the large expanse, Carla stepped up to the counter, tapping a small sliver bell labeled “ring for service”.
She studied the rest of the room as she waited, noting the assorted antique automotive memorabilia and parts hanging from the walls and rafters. She also noted the new parts sitting on shelves in neat rows. She rang the bell again, louder this time. The clear tone echoed off the walls, returning to her as multiple, fading, ghosts of the original.
Less than a minute later, a tall, thin man dressed in coveralls appeared in a doorway behind the counter. She took in the grease spots dotting his lanky frame from the dirty Red Sox cap cocked sideways on his head to the oil-saturated boots on his feet.
As he moved closer, Carla estimated him to be about 50, tufts of gray hair poking out from under the ball cap. She suddenly wrinkled her nose, almost overcome by the pungent smell of gasoline that followed him into the room. He smiled and met her at the counter. “Can I help you?” he asked, as he put the wrench he carried under the counter.
“Yes you can. Is Mr. O’Brian here?” she asked, trying to get past the cloud of unleaded fumes now surrounding both of them.
“Are you selling something?” he paused. “Because if you are, you might as well leave right now. We don’t need whatever it is you got.”
Carla pulled out her badge, “I’m Special Agent Carla Raven, FBI, is Mr. O’Brian here, or not? I need to talk to him.”
The man went slightly pale and pointed toward a door marked Private. “Big Ed’s in there. I’ll get him.”
“I think I’ll tag along, if you don’t mind.” She rounded the end of the counter and followed the man to the door.
He tapped a knuckle on the partially open door and quietly spoke. “Ed, there’s someone here to see you.”
A deep voice resonated from the other side. “Send him in.”
Carla’s eyes widened as she entered the room, seeing her own reflection in the highly-polished oak floor. She moved forward, admiring the room’s off-white walls and the massive crown molding outlining the ceiling. As she continued on, an ornate throw rug of brilliant red, silver and blue cushioned her steps.
The office was immaculate and bright, the complete opposite of the utilitarian space she’d just vacated. Her eyes fell on a ship’s engine telegraph standing in a corner, the instrument’s brass body polished to mirror perfection. She noticed the selector handle indicated Ahead-Full.
She continued her visual tour of the room as she crossed, discovering the vast collection of nautical antiques dotting the walls. She stopped before a large glass case standing sentinel in the middle of the floor. Circling it twice, she stared in awe at the nineteenth-century diving suit residing inside, complete with brass helmet and lead boots.
“Now, those guys had balls of steel.” The voice called from across the room.
Carla turned toward the sound. About a dozen feet away, a man sat behind a large oak desk working at his computer. She noted the desk’s intricate carving and smoked glass top gave a final touch of elegance to the room. “I suspect they did, indeed.”
She made her way to stand before the man seated at the computer. “Ed O’Brian?”
The man looked up, his eyes meeting her is an iron-clad gaze. “Yes. What can I do for you?”
She reached for her badge and held it out. “I’m Special Agent Carla Raven, FBI.”
He stood and held out his hand. “Please, have a seat.”
She shook his hand with a firm grip and then sat in one of two high-backed chairs facing the desk. Sinking into the leather cushion, she noted the backs were carved to match the desk.
“I need to ask you a few questions,” she paused for the briefest instant. “About Aaron Casey.”
His deep green eyes met hers, holding her firm in his gaze. “What is it you want to know?”
“You and Mr. Casey are friends. Correct?”
“Yes. We’ve known each other for many years.” He answered, never taking his eyes from hers.
Ed leaned back, the strong features now bent in a deep frown beneath his close-cropped brown hair. He interlocked his fingers behind his head. “What’s this all about?”
She saw the muscles ripple beneath the ivory fabric of a traditional cable-knit sweater as his chest expanded.
Like Casey, Carla noticed O’Brian exuded the animal magnetism and displayed the same fearless bearing as his friend. She
moved on. “When was the last time you talked to him?”
Ed stiffened in his chair and repeated himself. “Let’s try that again. What’s this all about?”
She put the badge back in her jacket pocket. “I need to know when you saw Aaron Casey last. Now, please answer the question.”
“Agent Raven, this is going to take a long time if we keep going around in circles,” he said, once again sitting upright. “You tell me what this is about, and then we’ll see where we go from there.”
Carla stood up, annoyance flaring hot. Hands on the desktop, she leaned forward, her eyes again locking with his. “Or, I could arrest you and we continue this in lock-up.”
After a second’s pause, Ed slowly stood and put his hands out, inverted fists side by side. “If you feel it’s necessary. But that gets you nothing, except one very uncooperative detainee.”
Carla paused for a few seconds, staring at him, and then straightened up. “All right Mr. O’Brian, let’s not make this more difficult than it has to be. This information is important.”
Continuing to stand, Ed went on. “Agent Raven, if something happened to my friend, just tell me. He’s obviously in wicked-bad trouble, or you wouldn’t be here.”
Finally sitting down again, O’Brian continued. “Just tell me what’s going on and I’ll try to help you, if I can.”
She watched his face, noting the graying hair at the temples reinforced the air of dignity and authority he unconsciously projected.
“It seems your friend is part of a plot to steal classified material,” she said, trying to shake up the man sitting before her. “He could be facing some very serious charges.”
Ed sat very still for a long moment before the laughter exploded from his lips. After a few seconds he noticed she didn’t share his jocularity and fell silent. His face transformed from a nervous grin into an expression of disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding, right? Aaron could no more steal classified material then he could walk on water.”
Chain Reaction Power Failure Book I Page 21
