Chain Reaction Power Failure Book I

by Andrew Draper

  As the two men pulled clevis pins from the plow’s mounting brackets, Ed spoke. “About last night, what I said about you hiding…”

  Aaron interrupted him in mid-sentence, giving his friend a dismissive wave. “Forget it.”

  “That’s just it. I don’t want you to forget it. I want you to think about it. I know it’s hard to swallow, but Heather’s gone and you’re still here. You have to figure out a way to live with that…for your own sanity.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  The pungent, salty aroma of cooking seafood hung thick and heavy, permeating the humid air in the dining room of The White Whale restaurant.

  A noisy, animated crowd filled the tables, murmurs of conversations surrounding her as Clarissa Geovoni waited for the man sitting across from her to explain himself.

  Impatience getting the better of her, she slapped her hand on the table, rattling the silverware.

  “What the hell do you mean, she’s gone!” Her eyes burned in annoyance. “How the hell did she just disappear?”

  Colonel Alex Freemont didn’t respond to her angry outburst, instead sipping his drink in deep thought.

  Her face stiffened in the lingering silence, the classically-sculpted features now hard and foreboding. “This is a disaster!” She took a hurried swallow of her drink, lowering her voice before continuing. “So, not only is Verde dead, but now Ryan is missing as well. We need to find her.”

  “No shit.” The tall solider said, finishing his cocktail. He grimaced, the fine liquor now irretrievably watered down by melted ice. “I’m working on it.”

  She leaned back in her chair, crossing her shapely legs. “Doing what…and how did they get away in the first place?”

  He related the general gist of the incident at Casey’s office, drawing her attention to the butterfly bandage that closed a small wound on his forehead.

  She sneered in disbelief. “How could you let yourself get out-smarted by three amateurs?” she jibed, her anger a hot flash. “You’re supposed to be an Army officer. What the hell happened?”

  He shot her a hard glare, his dark eyes smoldering with antipathy. “They got lucky.”

  “Then arrest Temple,” Clarissa said, the tone harsh and demanding. “If he’s got what we want, make him give it to you.”

  “I can’t do that. An arrest means a lawyer…and media coverage. It would attract too much attention…attention we don’t want.”

  She leaned forward, the allure of her magnificent green eyes diminished by their cold stare. “I hope I don’t have to remind you, we have four days before the Senate hearing.”

  “I’ve got people looking for Ryan.” He said. “She can’t hide for long. We’ll find her.”

  “That’s not good enough.” Clarissa said, her calm tone belying her ill-concealed anger. “We’ve got to have that material before that hearing or this deal falls apart…and we can’t let that happen.”

  “I know,” he said, signaling a waiter with a raise of his glass. “I’ll have it back before the hearing.”

  A grim frown crossed her beautiful face. “You better. There’s a lot riding on this.” She paused for a dainty sip of her drink. “And I’m not talking about just the hearing and the money. You know there are some very powerful people who are heavily invested in this. I can tell you, they will be very unhappy if we don’t lock down ownership of this project before that hearing. For them, unhappy equals dead bodies…our dead bodies.”

  He didn’t respond to her morbid assessment of their situation.

  The waiter arrived and they each ordered another round and dinner entrées.

  She continued her interrogation, watching the waiter’s retreating back move off across the dining room. “What about this Casey guy, where did he come from…and how much does he know?” She asked.

  “He found Ryan after that idiot Murphy beat her up,” he shook his head in dismissal. “He doesn’t know anything. He’s a do-gooder that got caught in the middle. Ignore him.”

  The waiter returned and she accepted the refilled glass. She paused long enough for him to quietly withdraw before shooting Freemont a withering stare. “At this point Alex, I’m not ignoring anyone.” She paused a moment in concentration. “What kind of ‘people’ are you using to find Ryan…are they any good, or is this something else for me to worry about?”

  He sipped the refreshed whiskey then answered. “I’ve got an FBI team on it, headed up by a first-rate agent…and all those resources.” he said. “She seems to think Casey can lead her to Ryan and our missing material. Right now, I’m inclined to let her do the heavy lifting.”

  “The FBI? Christ, this just keeps getting better and better,” she hissed, her eyes lighting bright in annoyance “Don’t you think it’s a little dangerous, getting an FBI agent involved?”

  As he framed his answer, the shrill squawk of a cell phone interrupted the conversation. Freemont pulled the offending instrument from his pocket.

  “Please excuse me for a moment.” He turned his back to her.

  Clarissa politely turned her head, looking away as the electronic tone repeated.

  Touching a button on the phone’s screen, he answered. “Colonel Freemont here.” He listened intently for a few seconds and she noticed his tone change. “You have an update for me?” he asked, expectantly.

  The tinny sounding words of the caller’s reply were not well received.

  “How the hell did he get away,” he stopped in mid-rant, then looked at his partner, obviously censoring himself. “Understood. Keep me posted.”

  He closed the phone, remaining silent for several tense seconds.

  She sipped her drink again, meeting his gaze. “Care to share?”

  “That was my contact inside the FBI team, they said they have a lead. Ryan’s brother was snooping around her offices, so they took him into custody, but he escaped before they could get anything useful. They’re looking for him now.”

  She rolled her eyes in disgust. “Escaped…from the FBI…How is that even possible?”

  “I’ll handle it.” he said in a placating tone.

  She wasn’t reassured.

  “You’d better. Our lives are riding on it.” she answered.

  He took another sip of his drink before chiding her. “Oh, don’t be so melodramatic!”

  “You’re kidding, right?” she said, fear coloring her features for the first time. “These people are powerful, and have zero tolerance for mistakes.”

  “We haven’t made any critical errors.” He corrected her. “We just have to use our resources and make this happen. We have four days.”

  She took another sip of her drink before answering him. “I think I’d call letting our number one resource get killed and the most important piece of the deal disappear off the face of the earth a critical error. Don’t you?”

  He took her hand in his and felt her tremble. “Don’t worry. We’ll get the designs back and this deal will go through, just like we planned.”

  He kissed her hand, his caress sending chills up her spine. “Then we can figure out how to spend all the money we’re going to make.”

  She upended her glass. “You better hope so, for both our sakes.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Aaron moved carefully through the moderate traffic as he drove along Diamond Hill Road, making the connection with Route 126 and crossing the border from Woonsocket, Rhode Island into Bellingham, Massachusetts. He watched the windshield wipers fight a losing battle to push the snow aside, thinking the deteriorating weather might actually be a blessing in disguise. He turned to see Jenny staring out the window.

  “Are you going to give me the silent treatment forever?’ he asked.

  He got no response from the woman seated next to him.

  “Look, I’m sorry this is happening to you, but I did what I had to, to save your life.”

  She turned to face him. “I have to say something and I want to get it out before you respond. Okay?”

  “Okay.”r />
  “I want to apologize for the things I said yesterday. I’ve had some time to think and I want to say that I’m very grateful for what you did back there. You risked your life to save mine,” she said, beginning to tear up. “I just can’t believe you had to kill someone to do it. It’s all so surreal.”

  He glanced away from the road to meet her eyes. “Cut yourself some slack. You’ve been traumatized. I’m not surprised you reacted the way you did,” he said. “Anyone else would be a babbling idiot.”

  She clenched her jaw in tension before responding. “I’m an idiot all right. I’m an idiot for thinking I could control this. How could I have been so stupid? Two people are dead because of my research,” she said. “I can’t stand the thought of anyone else getting hurt.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for any of this,” he said. “Greed is a very powerful motivator.”

  “This is a nightmare!” The long-building tears finally started gently rolling down her cheeks.

  They traveled for a few miles in silence before she spoke again. “Where are we going?”

  He could still feel the tension radiating from her in thick waves.

  “I’m taking us somewhere safe so we can figure out what to do next.”

  “Why didn’t we just stay at Ed’s?”

  “We can’t,” he said. “After you fell asleep last night he told me an FBI agent came looking for us right after you were abducted. She’s convinced that you and I absconded with the plans for your project.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks and shaking her head in disbelief. “Why would I steal something I created in the first place? It makes no sense.”

  “You steal it to sell it. To the FBI it makes perfect sense,” he said. “As with everything else, it’s all about money.”

  “But that would make me as twisted as the monsters that kidnapped me,” she said. “Why would she think I’d betray my country?”

  “Country has nothing to do with it,” he said. “From what you said, your project is worth millions, maybe billions. That much money could turn anyone into a criminal.”

  “I hadn’t really thought too much about the money part of it.” she admitted soberly.

  His eyes expanded in shock. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No. I really didn’t think about the technology’s monetary value,” she said. “As it was, the military applications alone scared the crap out of me.”

  “Wow, you really are naïve,” he said, the words slipping out before he could filter his thoughts.

  Realizing his faux pas, he gave her a sheepish look. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, her face now creased by a small, grim smile of resignation. “When you’re right, you’re right.”

  The two-lane stretch of paved country road came to a fork, with the main branch continuing to the left. He followed the unpaved branch to the right for several hundred yards before reaching an ancient stone fence. He stopped, looking at the three-foot embankment of snow and the unplowed stretch ahead. He engaged the four-wheel drive and continued through the massive masonry arch. Leaving traffic behind, he kept following the winding trail as it passed between dozens off huge trees. Jenny looked out the window, admiring the stark beauty of the winter landscape as they crossed over a narrow, ice-covered bridge.

  The oversized tires continued churning up the snow as the Warthog clawed its way forward for half a mile, making a last sharp bend before approaching a three-story house. The red brick affair sat between several mammoth oak trees, their bare branches encased in a thick coating of ice.

  “Well, here it is,” he said. “Welcome to Avalon.”

  She climbed down from the cab and took in the massive edifice.

  “Wow! This is some place.” Jenny commented as she pulled two bags of provisions from the truck.

  Trudging through the thickening blanket of new snow, the pair gingerly navigated the treacherous, frozen walkway. The path led through another, waist-high stone wall to an immense enclosed courtyard, then on to the front steps. Aaron pulled a key from his pocket and opened the weathered door, the intricately carved wood barrier only one side of a massive pair reaching eight feet tall and stretching just as wide.

  Once inside, he led her down a long corridor, passing an elegant oak staircase leading up to the second floor. Moving past the stairs and into the kitchen, she put the bags down on the counter.

  Aaron tried the faucet in the sink and was surprised when the flow emerged unimpeded.

  “Okay, the pipes aren’t frozen, so we have water if we need it, but the fire is it for heat,” he said. “It’s not the Ritz, but it‘ll do. I’ll get the fire going and it’ll be warm enough…and safe.”

  She followed him across the parquet floor, through an archway into the great room. She stared up fifteen feet to the ceiling and noted the endless field of embossed tin panels. To the right, huge floor-to-ceiling windows framed a magnificent view of the snow-covered woods surrounding the house. The white beauty presented a stark contrast to her dark feelings.

  To the left, the great room’s vast expanse ended in a triple-set of French doors. The solid glass wall opened to a redwood deck that wrapped around the entire rear of the sprawling mansion.

  Aaron busied himself building a fire while Jenny admired the Grandfather clock next to the fireplace.

  Jenny handed Aaron a non-descript brown paper bag. “I think Ed sent this for you.”

  Aaron looked inside and smiled, pulling out a large bottle of scotch, one of a pair. He raised the bottle in salute to his absent friend. “Ed, you are truly prince among men.”

  He cracked the seal on the bottle and took a long pull, a slight shudder running through him.

  He turned to her, his measured words weighted with anxiety. “You still pissed at me?”

  “I’m just embarrassed…by the way I acted.”

  “I think you’re still in shock,” he said. “You’ve been abducted, threatened and almost killed. That’s enough to bend anybody’s brain.”

  “Thank you for saying that. I really am sorry for what I said. I feel like such an ass,” she said, shaking her head in disgust. “There’s no excuse.”

  He tossed back another swallow. “Apology accepted.”

  Her eyes met his in an intense gaze. “If I ask you a question, will you tell me the truth?”

  “The truth about what? I haven’t lied to you.”

  “Who are you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What you did at that warehouse, those were not the actions of an ordinary man,” she said. “Are you some kind of cop or something?”

  “No. I’m not a cop. I’m just a simple guy who runs a construction company.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second,” she said, then frowned, folding her arms across her chest. “I may have spent most of my life in the lab, but I’m not stupid. If you’re not a cop, then you’re some kind of special forces guy or something.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Are you kidding?” she said, eyes flashing, “You killed that woman without blinking an eye. You’re good at it. Just watching it made me sick.”

  “You can think I’m some kind of savage if you want, but I won’t apologize for shooting her. She would have killed you in a heartbeat. Decisive action was necessary,” he took another swallow, the expensive liquor warming him. “But, I will say that I’m sorry you had to see it.”

  “I believe that. That’s what makes you different from them. You didn’t want me to see someone die.”

  Awkward silence filled the room for minutes before he spoke. “Care for a shot?” He held out the bottle.

  She shook her head in the negative.

  “Suit yourself.”

  “Besides,” he took another stiff belt. “She violated Casey’s second rule of combat.”

  “What’s the second rule of combat?” Jenny asked, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

  Aaron ga
ve her a cock-eyed smile. “Never bring a knife to a gunfight. It shows poor planning…and it never ends well.”

  Her eyes expanded again and the color drained from her face. It took several seconds before she realized he was pulling her chain.

  “Very funny. If that’s the second rule, what’s the first rule of combat?”

  “Seriously, you really want to know?”

  “Yes.”

  Pausing for a second, his face took on a deadly, serious expression. “The first rule of combat is that you never leave a man behind…ever.”

  “Well, I can say I’m a big fan of rule number one,” she said. “It saved my life.”

  “Well, I hope that doesn’t become necessary again,” he said, smiling at her. “You’re kind of growing on me.”

  She flushed, the heat turning her cheeks a bright red. “Well, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Jenny stewed over the pair’s predicament while he showed her around the first floor.

  “This place is big enough to be a hotel.” She said. “It looks old.” Her nose detected a faint musty smell carried on the stale air.

  “It used to be a farm,” he informed her. “It belonged to a friend of mine.”

  “Your friend doesn’t mind if we stay here?”

  “No. He was killed in Afghanistan last year.”

  “I’m seeing a pattern of that with you.” She grimly opined, her attempt at gallows humor falling flat.

  She continued, trying to break the stagnant tension. “Why call it Avalon if it was a farm?” she asked. “Wasn’t Avalon an idyllic castle in some legend?”

  He cleared his throat, speaking in strong firm tones. “Well, according to my friend Matt, from 1781 until 1912, it was a 1500-acre working farm, but then from 1912 until after WW II it was the summer residence of New York financier J.C. Westcott and his family. Westcott had the place renovated in 1916 and named it Avalon. Unfortunately, Westcott’s only son died in the war and he had no other heirs. After WWII Avalon sat vacant until Matt’s Grandfather purchased it for the back taxes in 1975. When Grandpa died in 2004, Matt inherited it, but never lived here.”