The Tao of the Viper: A Kate Pomeroy Mystery (The Kate Pomeroy Gothic Mystery Series Book 2)

by Linda Watkins

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ve got work to do on Saturday anyway.”

  “Clinic?” he asked.

  “No,” I answered. “Just research.”

  17

  Kate

  The Silo

  THE REST OF the week went by swiftly. Jeremy left for Bangor Friday at noon. I had cleared my calendar and, after lunch, I opened the trap door in my bedroom closet and proceeded to unlock the interior door to the tunnel complex beneath Storm Island.

  This security door was new. After the events of the summer before, I wanted to make sure my home was secure. To do this, new deadbolt locks were installed on the entryways that led to the tunnels from the Carriage House and Stormview Manor. In addition, I engaged graduate students from the Mining Engineering Department of Penn State University to evaluate the tunnel system as a whole to ensure its safety. They also shored up the small tunnel that led to Maude’s silo, widening it and making it much easier to traverse. To be sure, they were curious about this small passageway that appeared to lead to nowhere. But, in the end, I believe they assumed that the tunnel, though useless, was simply one part of the larger system and, ensuring its safety, helped to ensure the integrity of the whole.

  I walked down the tunnel that led away from my house. It was cold and damp beneath the surface and the passageway’s floor was mighty slippery.

  The entrance to Maude’s tunnel was camouflaged by some fake, lightweight boulders. I moved these aside and, taking a deep breath, crawled inside. The first time I’d gone into this tunnel, I’d thought it would never end. But, now, having made my way to the silo on numerous occasions, it seemed a little like child’s play.

  Reaching the entrance to the silo, I climbed the stairs and opened the trap door. As always, the interior of this little building was welcoming to me. Impossibly warm and cozy, I could see the oil lamp that sat on the desk was already lit as if someone knew I were coming. I felt an overwhelming sense of peace flow through my body as I pulled myself up into the room.

  The interior of the silo was small. In the middle of the room sat a Queen Anne-style desk and chair. In one corner, there was a small lounge surrounded by a red velvet curtain. The curved walls of the building were lined with bookcases that had apparently been hand-crafted to fit. They ran from floor to ceiling and contained a voluminous number of journals and texts.

  The silo had but one window made of leaded glass and I stood by it now, staring out at the woods below. I chuckled as I pictured how I’d stood on tiptoe trying to peer through this window from the outside – wanting to know what, if anything, this strange building held for me.

  Sighing as I remembered the past, I moved away from the leaded glass window, to the bookcases. I grabbed a handful of journals and sat down at the desk. I pulled my laptop from my backpack, turned it on, and began to make a cursory review of Maude’s writings.

  Time passed swiftly. When I found something useful in one of the journals, I transferred the information to a file on my computer. As I finished scanning the notebooks, I glanced up at the bookcases. There was enough work here to keep me busy until the end of my days.

  Smiling, I returned the stack of journals to the shelf. As I placed the last one back where it belonged, I noticed something wedged between the shelf and the stone wall of the silo. Curious, I pulled it out. It was another journal – or, more accurately, a small book. The cover was red and inside I recognized the handwriting. It was Maude’s.

  Idly, I thumbed through the pages. This was not another book of herbal recipes – it looked more like a diary. I turned to the first page. Maude’s handwriting wasn’t easy to decipher so I sat back down at the desk where the light was better.

  Reading carefully, I discovered that Maude planned to make a record of a journey she was about to set off on with her husband and child – a journey to find another child, her stepson, who had been abducted.

  I looked up from the book and glanced out the window. It was getting late. Frowning, I rifled through the diary’s entries once more.

  A name popped out at me: Ian Morrison.

  Was this a distant relative of Terrance? And, wasn’t his grandfather’s name Ian, too?

  I again began to read and was surprised to discover that Maude had apparently believed that the Ian Morrison who lived in her time period was her child’s abductor.

  The plot thickens, I thought. But enough of this for one day. I need to get back.

  Sighing, I put the little book in my backpack, thinking it would make good reading on this lonely night and, gathering my things together, began my journey back to the Carriage House.

  When I arrived home, I tossed my backpack onto the sofa and headed straight for the bathroom. The tunnels had been icy cold and I needed a hot shower to warm up. Afterward, I nuked some leftovers for dinner, poured myself a glass of wine, and turned on the television to catch up on the day’s events.

  After dinner, I curled up on the couch and pulled the little diary from my backpack. Tucking an afghan around my legs, I began to read. However, I’d only gotten over a sentence or two when I began to feel sleepy. I tried to read further, but my eyes became increasingly heavy and, finally, I gave up, put the little book aside, and went to sleep.

  18

  Kate

  Bad News

  I SLEPT THROUGH the night, waking early the next morning.

  I must have been bushed, I thought as I sat up on the couch. I didn’t even go to bed.

  I made some coffee and checked my cell for messages. There was a text from Jeremy saying he missed me, but things were going well with his doctor.

  I smiled as I typed, I miss you, too. Hurry home.

  My calendar was empty for the day and I knew Jeremy wouldn’t be back to the island until late that afternoon. So, I decided to take a quick trip to the mainland for groceries. I phoned for a water taxi to pick me up at ten and went to get ready.

  I was home by one o’clock. I had a quick lunch and was about to do some work on my laptop when my cell rang.

  Glancing at the caller ID, I was surprised to see it was Matt Snyder, my attorney, calling from Bangkok. He was in the Far East following up on a lead on one of the girls we’d found who had been sold into slavery by my uncle’s henchman, Vlad.

  “Hi,” I said. “Surprised to hear from you. What’s up?”

  He laughed. “Well, a couple of things. First, the girl I told you about. The authorities here have made sure that she’s safe and is currently an inpatient at the local hospital. I’ve contacted her parents and her mom is on a flight as we speak. She should be going home soon.”

  “Good work,” I said.

  “Thanks. But there’s something else I have to tell you about.”

  His voice had turned serious and I listened intently.

  He took a deep breath. “I got a message from my office this morning. God, I hate to have to tell you this.”

  “What?” I asked, suddenly nervous.

  “Last Wednesday, Vlad Sokolov and three other prisoners became mysteriously ill and, because the authorities feared it was an outbreak of something contagious, they decided to transfer them to a secure hospital nearby.”

  “Oh, no,” I moaned. “Please don’t tell me what I think you’re going to tell me.”

  “Katherine, I’m afraid I’m going to. On the way, Vlad and the others overpowered the guards and escaped. They had weapons – no one knows how they got them. The other three prisoners were captured shortly thereafter. But Vlad, well, he’s just disappeared. I’m afraid he’s on the loose. For all we know, he could be hiding there on the island by now.”

  I couldn’t answer. My heart had leapt into my throat and I felt as if I were suffocating.

  “Katherine, are you still there?”

  I clutched the cell tightly. “Yes, I’m here.”

  “Okay. Stay calm. I spoke with the authorities before I called you. They’ll be contacting you and bringing out a SWAT team to search the tunnels and ensure that no boat is hidden anyw
here near your coastline. They’re serious about protecting you. They know all about the threats Vlad made when you testified against him.”

  “Okay,” I said softly. “Okay.”

  “Hang in there, Katherine, I’m not done yet. I think it would be wise for you to get your locks changed and install some camera equipment at your house. I know you already have a state-of-the-art security coded lock on the clinic because of the drugs. But you could use something similar at home, too. Do you have a camera at the clinic?”

  “Yes,” I answered. “It’s installed near the front door. There’s one inside, too.”

  “Well, do the same for your house. And, you might want to talk to Jeremy about his place, too.”

  “I will.”

  “Good. Now, if you don’t hear from the local P.D. or the FBI in the next twenty-four hours, call me and I’ll pull some strings. I’m so sorry to have to drop this on you. Are you going to be okay?”

  “Yeah, Matt. Thanks, I’ll be okay.”

  We spoke a few minutes more then hung up. Numb, I walked to the kitchen to unpack my groceries. I pulled a carton of eggs from the bag and was about to put it in the refrigerator when a wave of dizziness washed over me.

  The eggs crashed to the floor. I began gasping for air. My heart was pounding and I got the distinct impression that I was no longer alone.

  Terrified, I wanted to run, but I couldn’t move. I was frozen in place. I began hyperventilating and knew intellectually that I was in the grip of a panic attack. I had had these attacks for a while after the shootings at the Manor House, but had thought that they were a thing of the past. I had some pills – antidepressants – but they were in the bathroom cabinet and I couldn’t move.

  I felt a sharp pain in my chest and, while my rational mind told me it was just one symptom of the attack, my irrational self feared the worst. I sank to my knees, crying, unmindful that I was sitting in a pile of broken eggs.

  As I struggled to pull myself from the depths of fear, I heard a sound that plunged me in even deeper.

  The front door opening.

  I wanted to scream but no sound escaped my lips. I was paralyzed. I was sure it was Vlad coming for me – just like he’d said he would. I could even hear his voice in my mind.

  “You will pay, Dr. Pomeroy, and I will enjoy every minute of it!”

  “Katy?”

  A voice – familiar, but seemingly too far away. I was in a tunnel of terror now and I could find no way out.

  Strong arms wrapped around me.

  “Katy,” he whispered. “It’s me, Jeremy. Are you okay?”

  He held me, waiting as I struggled to pull my mind from the abyss.

  “Jeremy?” I finally said. “Is it really you?”

  “Yes, honey. It’s me. Open your eyes. You’re safe. Breathe.”

  I did as he said and, as I took in air, the fear began to subside. I put my arms around his neck, leaning into him.

  “It’s okay,” he crooned, rocking me. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

  He repeated the words “you’re safe” over and over until I finally believed him. I pulled my head from his chest and gazed up at him.

  “What happened, Katy?” he asked. “Bad dream?”

  I shook my head. “No, something worse.”

  I proceeded to tell him about my phone call with Matt.

  “No one knows where Sokolov is,” I said. “Matt thinks we should change our locks and get cameras installed in case he’s coming here.”

  “Okay. We can do that. When are the police coming?”

  “I don’t know exactly. They’re supposed to call me.”

  “Good. Come on. You’re a mess. We need to clean you up.”

  He was looking down to where I sat. I followed his gaze and realized I was covered with raw egg. I shook my head, laughing.

  “Yes, I am a mess. And so are you!”

  As I spoke I pointed out to him that he, too, was kneeling in eggs.

  He grinned. “I guess you’re right. Let’s get cleaned up and split this joint. I feel like eating a greasy cheeseburger and a ton of fries. How about you?”

  “I think I could handle that.”

  He helped me to my feet and, together, we made our way to the bathroom.

  Later at the Wet Your Whistle Bar & Grill, we talked as we ate our dinner.

  “I’ll call the locksmith tomorrow,” Jeremy said. “He can take care of your house and mine. Tom, I’ll call tonight. He can get the camera stuff done.”

  I nodded. Tom was his brother and the island’s master electrician.

  “Sounds good. It’s depressing though. One of the things I like most about this place is that it’s so low-tech. And, safe. But, now, it’s not, and we’re going to be plunged into a fortress mentality all because of that lowlife.”

  “Yeah. Half the time now I don’t even lock the doors. I leave the key in the truck when I’m parked at the wharf. But we can’t do that anymore. At least, not until that bastard’s back in jail where he belongs.”

  Jeremy was frowning, obviously angry. I reached over and took his hand.

  “I’m sorry I got you into all this,” I said softly.

  His face relaxed. “Oh, Katy, it’s not your fault. Don’t even think that. I’m just mad that we’re sitting here talking about that damned Russian when we should be planning our honeymoon.”

  “Well, we could change the subject.”

  He smiled and was about to speak when my cell went off.

  “Hello?”

  It was the FBI. They reiterated the news Matt had given me earlier and said they would be on the island at ten a.m. the next day and asked would I please be available to open up the tunnels to their team. I replied that I would. We spoke a few minutes longer then hung up.

  “Was that the police?” Jeremy asked.

  “Not the police – the FBI,” I said. “Apparently, his escape is federal. They’ll be here Sunday morning with a team to search the tunnels. If he’s hiding in there, they’ll ferret him out. And, that will be that – end of story, I hope.”

  Jeremy grinned. “Good. I’m glad that’s taken care of. Now, let’s talk about that honeymoon. I’ve got an idea I think you’ll like...”

  He went on to elaborate about a plan to rent a sailboat and cruise down the coast to Bermuda or one of the other islands. I only half-listened. Oh, I made all the right moves – smiled and asked questions – but a portion of my mind could not let go of the fact that Vlad was free.

  At his sentencing, he’d vowed he’d dance on my grave. And, I believed him. He was a cold, ruthless man used to getting his way. I knew he’d have no problem putting a bullet in my head at pointblank range, laughing as he pulled the trigger.

  No, as much as I wanted to immerse myself in the fantasy that, come June, Jeremy and I would be standing on the deck of a forty-foot yacht with the wind in our sails and the sun at our backs, I couldn’t ignore the fact that a cold wave of fear had taken over my body and was rapidly making itself at home.

  19

  Kate

  The FBI

  THEY CAME OVER on a police barge – a team of six men, led by a special agent named Haskell. He was a tall, stern-looking man, sporting a military-type brush cut. The agents were decked out in what I assumed was FBI swat gear. They all carried submachine guns.

  They brought with them a police van and I watched as they drove up to the Carriage House. After brief introductions, Agent Haskell sat down with Jeremy and me. He pulled a map from his pocket.

  “This is the information we have about the tunnel system. I’m hoping you can let me know if it’s accurate, to the best of your knowledge.”

  Jeremy and I studied the document.

  “It looks pretty much like I remember,” Jeremy said. “However, Kate’s been down there more recently than I. She had some security work done a couple of months ago.”

  “Security work?” Agent Haskell asked.

  “Yeah,” I responded. “I had grad students in minin
g and engineering come over and look at the system to make sure it was sound. I didn’t want to have my house or clinic suddenly falling into the abyss because of a faulty tunnel. Also, I wanted to make sure the entryways to Stormview and my house here were secure. After completing the evaluation, I had custom-designed security doors installed on each entryway. That’s all.”

  The agent eyed me suspiciously. I got the distinct feeling he knew I hadn’t told him everything. But what was the point in telling him about the tunnel to the silo when no one believed that little building existed but me?

  Quickly, I leaned over the map and began to prattle on about the tunnels and what Haskell and his team could expect.

  “There’s no electricity down there,” I said. “There are sconces in the walls for torches, but you’d be better off with flashlights and headlamps. Also, watch out for black ice. This time of year, it can be dangerous.”

  “Okay,” Haskell replied. “Now, you say this tunnel has an exit at the shore near a road called Lonely Lane?”

  He pointed to the long tunnel erected by Maude Prichard that opened out onto the sea.

  “That’s right,” I said. “If Vlad’s here and he has a boat, I think that would be the most likely place you’d find it.”

  Agent Haskell nodded. “I’ll send a couple men down that way. The rest of us will enter the tunnels from here.”

  “I’m going with you,” said Jeremy.

  The agent gave him a sharp look. “You have experience?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Jeremy replied, giving him a brief rundown of his military career.

  Haskell nodded, then sat silently for a moment, thinking.

  “Check in with Agent Quick outside. He’ll get you some gear. No firearms, though. You’ll be a civilian all the way. But it might be good to have a guide. You’ll show Agents Quick and Marx how to reach this Lonely Lane and you’ll do exactly as they say. Do I make myself clear?”