by LC Champlin
“And I,” Bridges responded in a low voice, “will see what the security’s like.”
As the two departed, Albin leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. If all else failed, the government could easily work out where he and the others had gone by following the chain of custody to the airport and the flight plan after.
“Albin,” Amanda murmured, “didn’t you say Nathan’s father-in-law offered you a flight to New York?”
Albin nodded, not looking up from the table and its carved names and oaths of devotion.
“Why don’t you call him? He can pick us up and fly us out there. He took Badal and Mikhail, right?”
“He said he may not be able to send a second aircraft,” Albin hedged.
“But you could still try.”
“Mm.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Denver, perceptive even from the doorway.
As the situation concerned the Musters, they deserved to know the truth. “Mr. Serebus and Mr. Crevan are not on amicable terms. There was a falling-out between our companies.”
“Even so,” Amanda responded, “he was willing to charter a private aircraft in this chaos to pick you up?” She raised a brow.
Albin sighed. “It is a lengthy, complicated story; thus, I will attempt to relate the critical points. I grew up with his daughter, a very distant and non-blood relation of my family. His daughter is Janine, Mr. Serebus’s wife.
“She views me as a brother. Her father thought of me as a nephew. That is, until we grew older. Then he believed I would make a fine husband for his only child.
“But neither she nor I approved of the idea. She was rebellious then, even more so than now, doing whatever she could to scandalize her father. She took after her mother in this regard.
“I respectfully made it clear that I would not be wed to her or to anyone else. But this failed to convince Mr. Crevan to abandon his idea.” Albin presented his testimony without emotion. The cool sand of his mental landscape, combined with focusing on a rust spot on the far wall, prevented his mind from summoning deeper memories.
“When Mr. Serebus and Janine met and subsequently married, it was a triumph for the three of us. A certain animosity had grown between Mr. Crevan and me, which only worsened when I joined the employ of Arete Technologies. Mr. Crevan considers his son-in-law to be a ‘villainous viper,’ to use his words. This amused both Janine and Mr. Serebus. So much, in fact, that she bears a tattoo of a serpent on her back.”
At this, Amanda frowned. The sisters studied the walls and ceiling, but they had fallen silent, indicating their attention to the adults’ conversation.
“Mr. Serebus enjoys antagonizing Mr. Crevan because the older man reacts strongly. It entertains Janine as well. However, she and David still love the man.
“Our latest confrontation with Mr. Crevan occurred when Arete Technologies may or may not have played a role in the stock price drop of a subsidiary of Mr. Crevan’s. This led to his company losing a bid.” The Musters did not need to know the bid involved providing servers and processors to Doorway Pharmaceuticals. “Mr. Crevan is in poor health. He claims this upset caused a decline in his condition.”
“Did you approve of this . . . interference with the stock?”
Albin steepled his fingers before him. What did she expect him to say? “I was in agreement with the plan to negotiate the bid by whatever means necessary. I regret to say it was partly motivated by the desire for personal satisfaction.”
“Satisfaction?” She cocked her head in confusion.
“It was a way of proving superiority. If Arete could outmaneuver his company, it would represent another way in which I had been correct in choosing Mr. Serebus as a colleague.”
This earned a nod. “That makes sense.”
“It was also a small recompense for the discomfort and irritation Mr. Crevan had caused me over the many years of trying to force his daughter and me to marry.”
Amanda shifted in her seat to better meet his eyes, or attempt to do so. “I guess I can understand the hostility you feel toward him. But that doesn’t explain why he’s willing to send the plane for you.”
“He hopes that if Mr. Serebus and Janine ever divorce, I will marry her. He also believes he can turn me to his side against Mr. Serebus, as he clings to the delusion that Mr. Serebus lured me into his employ and then corrupted me. He wants to believe the same of Janine. However, she is devoted to her husband and her son.” Albin smiled at the mental image of her interacting with her loved ones.
“You think he’s still trying to buy you off?”
“Our relationship remains civil. I believe this is mainly due to my continued close affiliation with Janine.”
“So take advantage of it.” Amanda spread her hands as if explaining the blindingly obvious. “Just use him. You don’t have to agree with him. Nathan is in New York—”
“Is he? The same people who led us into a trap also provided us with his location.”
“But did the FBI know it was a trap?” She leaned closer to him and whispered, “Those agents and the pilots might have been paid off. It happens, you know.”
“I cannot be sure.” He shook his head. “I must speak with Director Washington. She may not be a friend, but I do not believe she will lie about this subject. That is, I doubt it is in her best interest to do so.”
Amanda opened her mouth to comment, but Behrmann and Bridges returned from their respective forays. “Guys!” the economist exclaimed. “Come on out.” He grinned, showing his crooked teeth. “They’ve got a ride for us.”
Chapter 48
Out of the Garden
Warrior – Jaxson Gamble
June 5, 2016—
Birk waved his arms as he dashed toward the van.
Slamming on the brakes, Nathan slung the vehicle around. The tires skidded, leaving gashes in the green.
Down the road, the SUV left the pavement to barrel across the yard, toward the van.
Birk yanked the door open, swinging on it as Nathan leaned on the gas. The fugitive scrambled up like a rat escaping a terrier. “Go! Are you waiting for them to throw a farewell party?”
“Shut up, Birk.” Standing on the accelerator while hauling the wheel left threw the bastard against the door. Maybe his captors planned to track his cell phone. “I was under the impression you wanted to stay, or were experiencing Stockholm syndrome, considering you ran back to them.”
Fastening his seatbelt occupied Birk’s attention. “Yes, well, I got tired of being a pawn.”
“I don’t believe you.” Nathan shot through an intersection. Behind, two black Suburbans pulled onto the road.
“I’m screwed,” the scientist hissed with a glare. “Fucking screwed. Don’t you get that? They broke me out of jail, but they put me in one of their own. I’m nothing more than a slave. And to think, I did all this so I wouldn’t be a disposable flunky.” He slumped against the upholstery.
“I read your journal entries,” Nathan blurted. The SUV gained on him. “After meeting your sister, I don’t blame you for having an inferiority complex.”
A sly smile slid across Birk’s face. “You broke my code. I was afraid that even as basic as it was, it was too complicated for your little muscle-bound brain.”
“Your fish didn’t survive the fire, I’m sad to say.” A low blow. And completely justified. It wiped the smile off. “Actually, nothing of yours survived. The mercenaries your sister hired did a thorough job. At least Josephine tried to feed the fish.” Nonchalant shrug.
“Absolutely fucked.” Birk leaned to look in the side mirror. “They’re gaining on us.” Defeat wilted his posture.
Ahead, a black SUV peeled onto West Garden of the Gods. It accelerated head-on toward the van. Hold course. This game of chicken would end up with someone in the deep, fat fryer.
“Are you trying to get us killed?” Birk reached for the wheel, but Nathan flung him back with an outstretched arm.
>
Three, two, one—spin the wheel! The vehicles missed each other by inches. Now, left on Mark Dabling Road. Tires screamed at the turn. Birk grabbed for the slingshot handle—and missed.
“What the hell are you doing!” He braced himself with one foot on the dash. “Are you really going to try to outrun them in this?”
Brake, throwing Birk against his seat belt. Right, into the driveway of a truck supply and repair center. There, an open bay in the maintenance garage. The mechanics stared as the van squealed to a rubber-burning halt before them.
“Come on! Into the building.” Grabbing the duffle bag of gear he’d stowed in the passenger-side footwell, Nathan jumped from the vehicle.
He caught up to the researcher at the service door. They shouldered through, dodging startled grease monkeys. Through the storage room, with its shelves of vehicle parts, then down a dingy hall. They burst into the main waiting area. Empty.
“Wait.” He grabbed Birk by the arm. A moment of hunting in the duffle produced a baseball cap and windbreaker for each man. After donning the camouflage, they strolled out of the shop.
“Act casual,” Nathan whispered.
Glance darting about, shoulders tense, the researcher stalked out. Birk had likely never acted casual in his entire life.
Nathan hit the PTT button on the radio at his belt. “Sophia, do you copy?”
“I hear you. I’m in the gray Dodge Ram left of the building.”
In a row of pickups whose owners wanted to leave no doubt as to their manhood, a gray Ram 1500 waited with engine running and driver’s side window open several inches.
“I’m driving,” Nathan announced.
“No,” Sophia snapped, frowning at him via the side mirror. “We need to get out of here.”
“I need to reach the authorities. You’re free to go where you feel safe, but Birk is coming with me.”
“You’re really going back to them?” She leaned out the window to face him. “They let you get kidnapped, but you’re going to trust them with Birk? And the data?”
“I have my reasons.”
Growling, she pulled back into the vehicle.
Reaching the truck, Nathan pulled the driver’s door open, while Birk took the seat behind him.
When the doors closed, Nathan glanced back. “Move behind Sophia. I need to keep you in view.”
“What, you think I’m going to strangle you with a shoelace?” An eye roll worthy of a teenager followed.
“No, but choking you unconscious is an attractive option if you get out of hand. Needless to say, I don’t trust you.”
“It’s mutual.” Birk’s lip curled. “But I hate being held hostage more than I hate you.”
“I merely revealed what you did to the country.”
By now, the SUVs had congregated around the service garage. Excellent.
“We don’t have time to let the government do this,” Sophia pressed. She held an AR, muzzle pointing to the floor.
A black Suburban skidded to a halt on Garden of the Gods Road to the south. Another swung into the other entrance on the west, while a third covered the Mark Dabling / Enterprize Road on the east. Boxed in.
Sophia’s gaze swept over the blocked exits. “This is going to sound nuts—”
“Par for the course,” Birk drawled.
“I’m going to lead them away. You two either go back to the van, or snag another vehicle around here. Shouldn’t be too hard. You have weapons.”
“Risky, but we lack options,” Nathan agreed. Like dogs, the security bastards would follow whatever ran.
“Let’s go!” Birk kicked his door open.
Nathan ducked out of the vehicle. “This way.” He dragged the researcher toward the front of the truck that sat beside the Ram 1500. They made their way along the row of parked school buses and moving trucks that waited for repair, paralleling the fence line.
Sophia gunned the V8. The Ram shot backward, then shifted forward to barrel toward the back lot. She swung—and drove—for the fences. Hopefully the chain link wouldn’t entangle the tires.
For once, Birk used the shred of common sense he possessed, staying close to Nathan. They could cut left across the dirt lot to reach the service bays. The AR would convince the mechanics to hand over vehicle keys.
Crash!
The Ram plowed through the chain link with enough momentum to carry it clear of the wires. Like hounds after quarry, two of the SUVs left their posts at the gates to follow the pickup.
Chapter 49
Underground
The Handler – Muse
June 4, 2016—
“What of the quarantine period?” Albin asked Bridges, standing.
“I guess they don’t mind,” Behrmann replied. “They didn’t seem too worried when they brought us over here. Max shook our hands, remember?”
“Why are they being so hospitable? We are strangers.”
Bridges waved for silence. “Sssh! Don’t look a gift horse. You might see the wires in its lips.” He pulled his own lips back from his teeth. “Let’s go see the famous Mr. Ed.”
The group exited into the bright Colorado afternoon. A Lincoln Navigator waited. It came as no surprise that a luxury vehicle would appear here. Oil men, ranchers, and those wealthy enough to live miles from any source of employment formed a sizable segment of the population in this area of the state.
Max Kingston’s voice rang from the open window: “Get in, everybody. Unless you got to use the bathroom, that is. We’ve got a two-hour drive ahead of us.”
“Where are we going?” Behrmann asked as they reached the vehicle.
“We’re heading over to my neck of the woods.” He pointed to the west, where the ridge of foothills jutted from the plain.
The group situated themselves within the SUV. Albin ceded the front seat to Behrmann, allowing full access to question their driver. Bridges took the seat behind her. The sisters settled in the far rear with the DVD player, while Albin and Amanda occupied the center.
“Mr. Kingston,” Albin spoke up, “I left instructions with the sheriff to contact me if the FBI or DHS called.”
“Don’t worry.” The rancher glanced back. “I let them know to call me instead. I think you’ll be much happier on the other side of the mountains. We’re working on getting you a flight, but we’re hardly an airline hub.” He chuckled.
Everyone lapsed into silence as Kingston turned the vehicle southward. The peace lasted for less than a minute before Behrmann began to interrogate the rancher. The majority of the questioning turned to static in Albin’s ears. Outside, the wilderness sped by. Accompanying a stranger into unknown territory did not rank as optimal, but it proved more desirable than flying with men who impersonated government agents, or who served corrupt authorities.
The trip passed without complication. The foothills had grown into mountains; now the SUV traveled through a valley on the way north.
A gate came into view ahead. When the vehicle reached it, Kingston slowed to a halt. The barrier pulled aside. They drove through a horse ranch replete with stables and white fencing. In the backseat, Taylor and Denver voiced excitement over the sleek animals that grazed in the pastures. Unlike the yellow scrub of the plain, the grass here grew green. While opposite sides of fences might not offer better pastures, opposite sides of mountains did.
The vehicle left the range proper behind. After half a kilometer, they approached a pole building. Kingston pulled the SUV inside. The door rolled down behind them. They occupied a garage large enough to hold at least ten cars.
“Everybody out.” Kingston pushed his door open and exited.
After everyone vacated the vehicle, he pulled aside a tarp that hung across the wall ahead. The steel doors of a lift glinted in the fluorescent lights. A basement?
Albin raised a brow at Kingston, who grinned.
“Not what you were expecting?” the rancher asked.
“Sir,” Albin replied
carefully, “I appreciate your hospitality, but you will understand our hesitancy.”
“You can come by yourself if you want, and leave your friends here. There’s not really a way for me to prove I’m not going to murder you.” Kingston smirked. “But I understand your concern. Have you ever seen those repurposed missile silos? The ones people have turned into bunkers?”
Everyone voiced in the affirmative.
“There are companies that make underground houses. Luxury—and I do mean luxury—houses, no less. They have whole self-sustaining communities underground.”
“Do you mean,” Albin began, “this is such a community?”
“There are a few others around—Indiana, Kansas, the Dakotas. There’s one or two in Europe, too.”
“Did you build this?” Denver asked from beside her mother.
Kingston laughed. “No, sadly. I just saw the financial benefit of letting the company have the land I’m not using under the land I am using. You know, this place is a resort as well as a working ranch. The buildings are a half mile off.” He gestured in their general direction, roughly northwest. “But we’ll get to that later. Right now I want to show you around. Come on down.” The lift doors opened, and he stepped in.
The group exchanged glances, then Albin fell in behind Kingston. Judge padded after.
The floor buttons numbered one through four. The car began its descent.
“This isn’t going to be like a cave, is it?” Denver asked, eyes narrowed as if she attempted to decide if this would prove a diversion or a drudge.
“You just wait, little lady.” Kingston gave her a nod and a smile.
When they reached the bottom, he led them to the center of a circular courtyard. At this ground level, plants and even small trees grew in the semblance of a peaceful glen, or at least a city native’s idea of one. Judge sniffed at the nearest shrub.
The central shaft reached four stories above. The light above shifted as if clouds scudded across the sun. Handrails jutted over the edges of the levels enough to provide a strip of color, each a different earth-toned hue, growing lighter as the levels ascended.
