Chain Reaction Power Failure Book I

by Andrew Draper

  Seeing none, he turned his concentration back to the woman trapped behind the wheel.

  “Agent Raven can you hear me? It’s Ed O’Brian.” He said while he enlisted the help of the men, yanking unsuccessfully on the jammed door.

  A strained voice, tinny and weak, came from inside the mangled vehicle. “Yes. I can hear you.”

  “Are you injured?

  “I’m a little banged up but not too bad.” She said.

  He peered in through the driver’s window, now reduced to a three inch gap between the door and the collapsed roof. Grimacing in pain, the trapped agent looked back, her face marred by dirt, a fine line of blood trailing from a small cut on her forehead.

  “No head wounds, arms and legs moving all right?” Ed asked, still assessing her condition and trying to concoct a plan to extricate her from the shattered hulk. He stood, quickly surveying the area for something to help pry the door open.

  She struggled against her bonds and answered. “I think my left arm is broken. I can’t move it. Everything else hurts like hell, but it all works.”

  Ed returned to the window, and the trapped agent’s expectant stare.

  This car could blow any second. I’ve got to get her out…fast.

  His calm voice concealed a vaulting sense of urgency. “We can’t force the door, so I’m going to break the window on the other side and get you out that way. Are you pinned by anything?”

  “No. I’m just hanging by the dammed belts.” She said, pasting a grim smile on her pain-racked face.

  Noticing the dash lights still glowed a bright green, a half-baked idea suddenly flashed through Ed’s mind. “The power is still on. Can you reach the window buttons?”

  “I think so.”

  “If you can, try to put the window down.”

  She used her uninjured arm, reaching across her body to the control panel and found the switch. He heard her wince in pain as she moved.

  Ed moved to the passenger side of the car and watched the transparent wall began to move upward with agonizing slowness, emitting a low groan of protest. Just when he thought it would work, the frozen air was suddenly split by a short, high-pitched squeal as the window came to a halt.

  “Damn!” he threw the profanity out in frustration.

  He pulled off his gloves, rubbing his hands against the cold. He stuck his fingers through the narrow slot just created under the glass.

  “Try it again!” he said, leaning against the mangled door.

  Muscles straining, Ed pulled up on the glass while the window motor whined in a losing battle.

  A loud crack! rent the air as something inside the door let go and the window began to slide upward again, the glass pinched tight but still moving. Grunting with the effort, Ed levered the window the rest of the way up, creating an opening large enough for the injured woman to crawl through. He pulled off his jacket and laid it inside, using it as a cushion against the broken glass scattered on the roof, now floor, of the overturned vehicle.

  Returning to the driver’s door, he stuck his arm in through the narrow opening next to her head. “Okay. Now I’m going to cut you out of this belt and you are going to drop to the roof of the car. Use your good arm to protect your head.”

  The metallic snap of Ed’s K-Bar Tactical Ops knife followed the brief warning.

  “Brace yourself. Ready?”

  Inside the car Carla gave a weak nod of her head. “Ready.”

  With a strong backward pull, he slid the razor sharp blade through the belt’s webbing. Free of the belt’s restraint, Carla became a Newtonian experiment in gravity.

  “UUUmmmfffff!” She hit the roof of the car with an audible thud, the air forced from her lungs.

  “Aahhh!” she yelped in pain as she rolled to her stomach, clutching her injured arm to her side. She crawled slowly, moving toward the open window and stuck her head out. Ed grabbed the collar of her jacket and unceremoniously dragged Carla from the sedan’s twisted wreckage, bringing a sharp hiss from the injured woman’s lips.

  He dragged the still-woozy agent clear and leaned her against a tree, immediately spotting the unnatural angle of her dislocated shoulder as he reclaimed his jacket and put it on.

  “Agent Raven, are you with me?” he waved his hand in front of her face.

  She brushed his arm away in irritation. “Yes. I can hear you. I’m okay.”

  “Do you think you can walk?

  Standing unsteadily to her feet, Carla brushed a stray lock of hair from her pain-lined face. “Yes, I think so.”

  Ed turned to the by-standers. “Okay. Let’s get the lady topside.”

  Struggling to keep the thumps and bumps to a minimum, Ed and the pair of good Samaritans guided, lifted and sometimes carried the injured federal agent up the steep slope toward the road above. The distant wail of sirens reached their ears as they crested the embankment.

  Ed dropped the Bronco’s tailgate and brought the injured woman to a sitting position on the cold steel platform as the siren’s shriek grew louder with each passing second. He laid the first aid kit on the tailgate next to Carla and began cleaning the still-bleeding cut on her forehead. “Are you sure you’re not hurt any place besides your arm? That knot looks pretty bad.” he said.

  She instinctively raised her good arm and gingerly dabbed at the small wound on her forehead. “Oh, it’s okay,” she said, examining a drop of blood left on her fingertips. “I just banged it against the window when the car went over.”

  “Well it’s bleeding. We’ll let the doctors check that out when they look at your arm.”

  An interminable two hours later, the pair sat in an emergency room cubicle, the constant noise of the intercom fraying Carla’s last remaining nerve. Her head felt like it would explode any second and she was in no mood for an overly-cautious doctor.

  She winced, gritting her teeth as the physician tightened the wrap around her now-reset shoulder.

  “Besides the dislocated shoulder, you have a pretty nasty bump on the head. I’d like to keep you overnight for observation.” he said.

  “I told you, I’m fine,” her words left no room for argument, the rebuttal unyielding. “I just want to get out of here. I have work to do.”

  Ed spoke as he paced the tiny room. “Well that may be, but the Doctor said you might have a concussion. You shouldn’t take that lightly.”

  She shot him a withering glare. “I’m not taking anything lightly. I dislocated my shoulder and got a little knot on my head, no permanent damage. I need to get back to my office, back to looking for Casey and Ryan…now.”

  The doctor stepped between the two, facing his not-so-patient, patient. “Miss Raven, I really must insist that you stay here. For you own safety.”

  Ignoring the taller man, she looked around the room. “Where’s my jacket?”

  Ed pointed to the cabinet to Carla’s left. “I put it over there.”

  He crossed the room in two long strides, retrieving the garment and handing it to her.

  An obstinate mask of determination forming on her face, Carla dug in the pocket, pulling out the small black wallet Ed had seen earlier in the day.

  “I’m an adult,” she said, showing the physician her badge. “I am also a Federal Agent. I’m checking myself out. Please prepare the paper work.”

  Shrugging his shoulders, the doctor turned to face his patient, “I can’t stop you,” The doctor said as he made notations in her chart. “But I advise against it.”

  “Understood,” she said as she stood. “Thank you for all your help doctor.”

  The doctor slid Carla’s chart back into a holder on the wall, shaking his head as he left the room.

  “Okay. Now what do we do?” Ed asked, holding out her jacket so she could slip it on.

  “I have to get another car…and another phone. Then I go back to work. You go back to doing whatever it is that you do. If I have any more questions, I’ll contact you.”

  Ed saw one last opportunity to convince the agent to le
t him join the search for Aaron and Dr. Ryan. “I can drive you back to your office.”

  “How? You came in the Ambulance with me.”

  “My Bronco is downstairs. I had one of my guys drop it off while you were with the doctor,” he said with a boyish grin. “I couldn’t leave a classic like that sitting on the side of the road.”

  Carla rolled her eyes at the comment, recalling the less-than-pristine appearance of the ancient sport wagon.

  “And I grabbed your phone…thought you’d want it.” He said.

  A hint of genuine surprise crossed her face as he handed her the wireless device.

  Still a little unsteady, the agent got to her feet and moved toward the door. “Thanks, but that won’t be necessary. I’ll call for a ride.”

  He placed a hand on her good shoulder, his overriding concern for her health now blending with annoyance at her resurfaced resistance. “You realize, you could have been killed out there.”

  “But I wasn’t.”

  “My God, woman!” he said, throwing his hands over his head. “How can you be so damned stubborn?”

  He took several deep breaths, reigning in his frustration. “I can help you. I said it before and I’ll say it again. I know Aaron better than anyone, and now that you’re injured you are going to need some help. We could start by figuring out who really took that material from Ryan’s lab.”

  She moved her injured arm with a small wince, “This is nothing. You want to help? Tell me where Casey would go if he wanted to disappear. That would help.”

  Ed folded his powerful arms across his chest in defiance. “I told you before. If you go after him without me, someone is going to get killed.”

  She leaned forward, her face now scant inches away from his. “And like I told you before, this is a federal investigation of a murder and possible espionage. Civilians don’t get to be involved in those kind of things…period.”

  Frustration boiling to the surface once again, Ed snapped at the woman in angry retort. “Agent Raven, quite frankly you don’t have a prayer of finding Aaron, or this Ryan woman, without me. Not any time soon that is. I can be an asset and up to now I figured you to be smart enough to realize that.”

  “Not a prayer, is that so?” She replied smugly. “As I recall, the FBI is not without its resources.”

  His gaze met the agent’s with each pair of eyes burning into the other. “Neither is Aaron Casey.”

  “I’ll find them myself!” Ed huffed as he broke the contact, and crossed the room.

  He shook his head in disgust, muttering as he pulled open the door. “I thought you people were supposed to be smarter than this.”

  The beautiful FBI agent watched as the man stormed out of the room. “Shit! There goes my ride… and my best lead.”

  Scribbling her signature on the release forms, she searched her mind for any clue as to how…and where…to pick up the trail.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The darkness folded in around Kelly Ingersol, thickening as she watched the minutes tick by on a Rolex watch.

  Sitting in the nearly deserted parking lot of the Charlestown Navy Yard visitor’s center, she stared into the expanding night. She checked her watch again as the waif stood in the tunnel’s entrance, fidgeting nervously, waiting for their target to arrive. Cold beginning to settle in to her bones once more, Kelly turned on the heater and checked her watch a third time. Murphy was late.

  She dared not move any closer to the tunnel for fear that Murphy might see her or sense the trap.

  Where is he?

  Tense and expectant, she felt no small measure of relief at the sight of the single figure approaching from within the tunnel. A small red glow bobbed and weaved as the waif’s cigarette arched into the snow before she entered the tunnel to meet Murphy.

  “Finally…” Kelly muttered, the echo’s energy magnified by her seclusion.

  Suddenly feeling a rare flash of uncertainty, Kelly stood on pins and needles, tension gnawing at her senses while she waited for the pair to emerge from the darkness.

  This is taking too long!

  Seeing the tunnel entrance was still clear, she left the relative warmth of her car and moved closer to the edge of the lot. The cold forcing her breath into quick gasps, she stepped further into the shadows behind a small concrete barrier separating the old naval base from the rest of the public park.

  She quickly scanned the area for any signs of observance and finding none, sprinted to cover the last few yards from the barrier to the tunnel entrance. She stopped and listened, now standing only feet away from where her accomplice had been smoking a minute before. She waited, listening to her heartbeat in her ears for several tense seconds before the sound of footsteps surrounded her. Kelly palmed the gleaming automatic, silently racked the slide and crossed her arms to hide the weapon in the folds of her Norwegian blue fox coat.

  She stole a look down the tunnel and could just catch a glimpse of the pair as they closed the distance to where she stood. Walking briskly against the falling temperature, they moved closer and stepped into a circle of dull yellow light, the dingy ring cast by a bare bulb hanging from the tunnel’s plywood ceiling. Between the footsteps, muted words drifted to her on the frozen air.

  “All right Susie, where’s my bag?” Murphy asked. “I have a plane to catch.”

  “It’s close,” she said.

  “Why didn’t you bring it with you?”

  “Because I want my money first,” she said. “You promised me two hundred bucks and I want it now.”

  “You’ll get your money.” he waved his hand in dismissal.

  “That’s right, I’ll get it. Then you get your bag.”

  His voice suddenly became menacing. “Don’t push me. It’s not a good idea.”

  The waif steeled herself, putting her hands on her hips in defiance. “I’m not pushing. I just want what’s mine.”

  His motions a blur, Sean’s right hand shot out, fingers tangling in her hair. Pulling hard enough to make her squeal, he yanked her matted tresses and drew her near. He leaned in still closer, his face twisted in anger. Stopping only inches from her nose, he hissed through clenched teeth. “Give me my bag. I’m not going to ask again.”

  Keeping to the impenetrable shadows along the walls of the tunnel, Kelly crept up on the arguing pair undetected. Stepping into the dim light, she placed the automatic next to Murphy’s ear. Hearing the unique metallic click of the weapon’s hammer, he froze in mid-sentence.

  “Let her go,” Kelly ordered, her controlled voice projecting a dispassionate calm she didn’t feel. “Both of you face the wall…now!”

  He released the woman’s hair and the pair turned away from the pistol’s cold barrel.

  “On your knees!”

  When he hesitated, she kicked Murphy behind his right knee, dropping him to the cold ground with a painful grunt. She moved closer, placing the barrel of the automatic against the back of his head.

  “Hands behind your back.”

  Murphy turned to his captor. “Who are you and what do you want?”

  “No talking!” Kelly barked. “Just sit there and shut up!”

  “You’re making a mistake. I demand you release me immediately!” he said, the words echoing off the tunnel’s makeshift walls. “You have no idea who I am.”

  “I know exactly who you are…Mr. Murphy,” Kelly replied, an artificial sweetness dripping from her voice. “Why do you think I’m here?”

  “You,” She barked a command at the woman facing the wall, handing her a zip-tie and a blindfold. “Put this on him.”

  The gaunt woman moved in behind Murphy and slipped the tie around his wrists, effectively binding the man.

  Trembling, the younger woman then tied the blindfold tightly around Murphy’s eyes before stepped back, turning to the woman, and the gun, now facing her.”

  “Your turn. On your knees and face the wall.” Kelly ordered.

  The kneeling woman began to shake violently. “Please,
don’t…don’t do this!”

  “You know too much. I’m sorry.”

  Kelly carefully aimed the pistol and squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out with the clarity of a church bell. The ominous concussion split the silence of the tunnel, careening off the walls and rolling away in concentric waves. As the echo of the blast faded, Murphy finally spoke in an unsteady voice, “Y-y-you killed her didn’t you?”

  “She saw me.”

  “I’ve seen you. Are you going to kill me next?”

  “You still have value… for the moment. Now get up!”

  She pulled him to his feet, poking him in the back with the automatic’s sharp barrel.

  “Move.” she ordered, pushing him forward as she guided him back toward the tunnel’s entrance and the tenuous safety of her waiting car.

  Loading Murphy into the back seat of her rental, she slammed the door and seconds later the engine sputtered to life. Kelly watched with a carefully controlled relief as the form of the small thin woman crept from the tunnel entrance. Kelly followed her progress as she sprinted across the parking lot under the dim lights to make her way into the bushes along the riverbank. With a quick look over her shoulder, the waif disappeared between the branches and into the night.

  Reaching over the seat, she laid the barrel of the automatic against Murphy’s chin, feeling his body tense as he flinched in fear.

  “If you want to live, sit still and don’t make a sound,” she ordered. “We’re going someplace we can talk.”

  Kelly turned on the heater and a small breeze of warm air began to fill the cabin. She put the car in gear and pulled out of the empty parking lot into the heavy evening traffic.

  The light from the floor lamp washed out all detail in the room, the sudden brightness overwhelming him when his captor removed the blindfold.

  Blinking several times to clear his vision, he looked around at the drab décor and recognized the signs of a “No-Tell-Motel” room. Translation: rent-by-the-hour dump. Decorated in early dumpster, the peeling taupe paint on the walls and cracked plaster of the ceiling offset the thread-bare carpet and thrift store furniture.