She’d been to Seattle only once since then, while Grant was traveling overseas. His vague memory of her was of a pretty, chubby blonde who shared Tyler’s square jaw, brace-straightened teeth, and sky-blue eyes.
Normally, Grant would walk right into Tyler’s house, but with his sister there, going in unannounced didn’t seem like a good idea, especially if the boyfriend were present. He rang the doorbell, an odd sensation.
A few moments later, bare feet padded across hardwood floors. The door opened, and when Grant saw the woman standing in the doorway, he nearly stepped back to make sure he was at the right house.
Instead of a chubby blonde, a svelte redhead smiled back at him. Dressed in a form-fitting V-neck shirt and body-hugging jeans, she bore little resemblance to the woman Grant recalled. Grant couldn’t help looking her up and down, and he caught her doing the same to him.
“Grant!” She threw her arms wide and lunged at him, wrapping Grant in an embrace before he could react. She had a surprisingly firm hold on him, and he returned the hug gently.
She pulled away and said, “Those muscles. Wow! You are even bigger than I remembered. What are you? Two forty? Two forty-five?”
He realized he was gaping and closed his mouth. “Two-fifty. I’m sorry, Alexa. For a second, I didn’t recognize you. You colored your hair.”
“Actually, the blonde was a dye job. This is my natural color. I like to change it up once in a while. I see you do, too. It looks good shaved.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ve also lost some weight since the last time you saw me. Bought one of those extreme workout DVDs. It got me to drop thirty pounds in three months, but the first week was hell. I see you’re still working out.”
“Yeah. Sorry about the stench.”
Alexa eyed his tank top. “It’s not too bad. Nothing that a good shower won’t fix. Come on in,” she said, and gestured for him to enter. “Tyler said you’d be dropping by. I told him I didn’t need a babysitter, but when he mentioned it was going to be you, I changed my mind.” She winked at him.
Her flirty behavior was definitely different than at the funeral. Grant smiled wanly and followed her inside.
“Want a beer?” Alexa asked, pulling a Fat Tire from the fridge.
“Sure.” She pulled a second bottle from the shelf and gave him one. They went to the living room and sat across from each other. He forced himself to keep from groaning as he settled into the couch, his joints and muscles aching from the tough workout. The soft cushions were more soothing than he’d ever admit.
Instead of taking in the beautiful view of the city through the huge windows as most visitors did, Alexa focused on Grant intently and smiled.
He took a long swig and looked around. “Is your boyfriend with you? Bart, wasn’t it?”
“Bert. No, he’s not around anymore.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. He was nice, but kind of a stick-in-the-mud, as I’m sure you noticed when you met him. No, I decided to enjoy the single life for a while. You?”
Grant shook his head and took another drink. He could think of ten smart-aleck things to say — comebacks he wouldn’t normally hold back — but this was Tyler’s sister. His little sister. His attractive little sister.
“Yeah,” Alexa said, “Tyler told me you like to keep it fast and loose.”
Grant raised an eyebrow. “Did he?”
She put up her hands. “I think he meant it as a compliment.”
The farther the conversation went down this road, the closer Grant was to getting himself in trouble, in Tyler’s house no less. He changed the subject.
“What did Tyler tell you about why he asked me to come by?”
“Just that he wanted you to keep me company while he was on his way back. He should be here later this afternoon.”
“Mmmm,” was all Grant said. If Tyler hadn’t revealed the real danger just yet, then Grant wasn’t going to either. “How long have you been in town?”
“A couple of days. I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone.”
“How so?”
“Well, first of all I wanted to make sure Tyler was taking care of himself. You know him. Always ready to get back into action before he should. I was worried he was staying in France to head up Gordian’s part in the investigation.”
“Uh, no,” Grant said, “he thought it would be better to relax there before taking the long flight home.”
“Right,” Alexa said, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “And then he flies straight to California?”
“Important business. But he promised to ease up for a couple of weeks once he gets back.” Grant took another swig. “So what’s the other bird?”
“I was supposed to meet with a man who lives here. André Laroche. Do you know him?”
Although Tyler had told him over the phone about Laroche’s potential involvement with the Eiffel Tower, it was another piece of info he’d let Tyler reveal to her. “The name’s familiar.”
Alexa leaned back and put her feet up on the coffee table. “He’s a timber millionaire. Owns a huge mansion on Mercer Island. You guys know some of the Microsoft and Amazon billionaires, so I thought you might have run across him. I had a meeting planned with him, but his assistant called to say he wasn’t available all of a sudden.”
“Did she say why?”
“No, and that’s unusual. Marlo is always a sweetie, but she was very curt about it.”
“What were you supposed to be meeting about?”
“He hired me about a year ago. I’m back because of a video I shot this past April.”
“What video?”
Alexa rolled her eyes. “Tyler hasn’t told you? What a shocker. He’s probably embarrassed.”
“He never mentioned it, but I doubt it’s because he’s embarrassed.”
“I’m the laughing stock of the scientific community. I’m embarrassed, why shouldn’t he be?”
“About what?”
“About the Loch Ness video. Surely you saw it online sometime in the last week.”
Grant shrugged. “I’d only consume the news if I could take it in pill form.”
“Too depressing?”
“Nothing I can do about it. I figure if it’s important, someone will tell me.”
“Well, I’ve got something to tell you. Better yet, I’ll show you.”
Alexa hopped up and scampered across the floor on her toes. She returned moments later carrying a laptop and plopped herself down next to him.
“Boy, you do smell. I’ll live, but we’ll have to get you into a shower soon.” She opened the laptop and clicked on the browser, bringing up a YouTube page titled, Loch Ness Monster Discovered?
Grant could see a few comments underneath. “Fake!” the first said. The second said, “Spielberg has nothing to worry about.” The one below that, “How do we even know that’s Loch Ness?” It already had over three hundred thousand views.
“The Loch Ness monster? You found the Loch Ness monster?”
“That’s what Laroche thinks.”
“And you posted this online?” he asked.
“Are you kidding? Without any other evidence? I have a Ph.D. in biology and I’m hoping to get a teaching position somewhere. Do you think it would really help my case to become known as a Nessie hunter?”
Grant understood. Even with a degree from a prestigious university like Northwestern, she would be hard-pressed to find a position if she had a reputation as a crank.
“Then how did the video get online?”
“I’m guessing my colleague posted it.”
“Who’s that?”
Alexa burbled out a breath between her lips. “Mike Dillman, a videographer who was with me at the loch that day. It was supposed to be a short-term gig. I didn’t really think anything would come of it, but it was a lot of money and would tide me over while I was writing grant proposals. I also piggybacked some research on freshwater ecosystems I was hoping to publish.”
“And Laroche was your patron?”
She nodded. “He’s seriously into cryptozoology. Says his interest in it started when he saw Bigfoot on a lumber scouting trip in the Cascades.”
Grant frowned. This millionaire was sounding like he was veering from eccentric into full nutcase status. “What’s cryptozoology?”
“It’s not a scientific discipline. Pseudo-science, really. The study of mysterious creatures. Bigfoot, the yeti, the chupacabra, the Loch Ness monster.” When she saw Grant’s doubtful expression, she continued. “Like I said, it was a lot of money, and I was just going through the motions. Then this happened.”
She pressed the PLAY icon, and Alexa appeared on screen wearing a wool sweater and cable-knit hat, standing on a small boat. The water visible behind her was choppy. It was obvious that someone else was holding the camera. That had to be Mike Dillman.
This is Dr. Alexa Locke, recording twelve, begun at 7:30 p.m., her on-screen self said. Grid twenty-three seven.
“I had to record that at the beginning of every video,” Alexa commented in Grant’s ear. “We went out every day in that little motor boat on a systematic search pattern. Laroche’s instructions. I didn’t argue. His money.”
The camera swung from her and faced the lake. Forested hills rose in the distant background. The gray sky made it difficult to judge distances. No other boats were in the frame. Grant took Alexa’s word for it that it was Loch Ness, but it could have been any one of a hundred coastlines for all he knew.
Then a thump came from off-camera, followed by a yelp from Alexa.
Oh, my God! she shouted.
The unseen cameraman’s hand came into frame as he was pointing at something. He yelled, What the hell is that?
Grant’s eyes flicked to Alexa sitting next to him.
“Keep watching,” she said.
The camera slewed around. It took a second to steady and then zoom in on what at first looked like a dark ripple of wave. A tighter frame revealed a hump breaking the surface. It went under again, and the camera tracked its motion. The glistening skin of the hump came up a second time, accompanied by the distinct outline of a flipper.
It was almost as if it were waving to the camera.
Then it disappeared. The camera came back to Alexa, who looked stunned by the sighting. The only thing Grant could hear from the video was Dillman’s labored breathing. Two seconds later, the video ended.
“I almost passed out from hyperventilating,” Alexa said. “We searched for six days after that and never saw it again.”
“That’s not computer graphics?” Grant asked.
Alexa shook her head solemnly. “I swear.”
“Maybe it was a seal or something.”
“I’m five foot eight, and I was standing when that was taken. I used a laser rangefinder to measure the distance to the sighting. By my calculations, that flipper was over four feet high. Whatever that creature was, it had to be thirty feet long.”
EIGHT
Victor Zim grinned as the prison yard melee started right on schedule. All it took were ten cartons of cigarettes and five bottles of smuggled whiskey that he had given to the Aryan Knights. Five minutes after he left the interrogation with Tyler Locke, Zim had been returned to the yard for the daily morning exercise hour. He’d nodded from his position at the edge of the yard and two members of the Knights threw punches at their counterparts in the Black Cobras and the Mexican Border Disciples. Within seconds, dozens of men were at each others’ throats, distracting the guards from the parachute floating to the ground.
Not wanting to give away the situation, Zim didn’t look up, but he had seen the plane high above as he strolled into the yard and knew exactly where and when the chute would land, controlled by remote adjustments to its cords. Hidden in his palm, Zim held the small laser pointer that had been smuggled in by a laundry supplier. While he waited, he relished the irony that it was Tyler Locke’s own sister who had unwittingly set into motion the events that would lead to his escape from prison.
As with any escape attempt, there were dozens of potential roadblocks and mistakes that could ruin the most carefully laid plans, any one of which would result in capture or death. Zim would get only one shot at this, but he was able to breathe easier knowing the first hurdle had been cleared. With a fall of several minutes from the plane’s fifteen-thousand-foot altitude, the drop had to commence before the fight even started. If that hadn’t occurred on time, the guards would have noticed the parachute long before it hit the ground.
Even so, Zim expected a quick response once it landed, so it was critical to open the package before anyone could stop him.
Between the rioting prisoners, the crowd egging them on, and the guards yelling at them to break it up, it was nearly impossible to hear the nearest tower guard shout a warning about the parachute. Zim was attuned to hear such an out-of-context word, so he caught it right away and knew he had little time left.
Zim raised two fingers and pointed, the signal for the second part of the plan to go into motion. Another Aryan Knight triggered a small explosive device made from a bottle and a small amount of smuggled chemicals. It wasn’t much more than a pop, but the sudden noise and puff of smoke were enough to draw the eyes of the guards away from the parachute.
In coming up with this idea, Zim had his financial benefactor research other prison escape methods, none of which ended up being adaptable for this enormous facility. Tunneling out would have taken years and could have been discovered many times over the course of the digging. One escapee from Everglades Maximum Security Prison got away when his mother and friends rammed a Mack truck through three fences and an iron gate, but he and his accomplices were caught soon after. And prisoners had escaped numerous times by helicopter, but it was a risky bet because choppers could be heard coming from a mile away, and some of the escapes had been foiled not by the guards but by other prisoners rushing the helicopter and overloading it, preventing it from taking off. For his plan, Zim had to raise the bar.
The silent parachute wasn’t seen until the last seconds. Zim was counting on the guards thinking it was a wayward skydiver from a local club before they discerned that the object hanging from the cords wasn’t a person. That’s all the confusion Zim needed before the true contents of the package were revealed.
The five-foot-tall pack landed with a thump next to Zim, exposing it for only a moment before the parachute covered it. Zim rushed over to the pack and dived under the parachute. He’d been expecting it to be kited while he snapped open the pack, but the windless day gave him a little bit of extra serendipity. The blue cloak would keep the guards in the tower from seeing what he was doing.
Zim unclasped the metal latches on either side, and the hard plastic covering fell away, revealing the pack’s contents: a stacked quartet of quadcopters identical to the ones used in the Eiffel Tower attack. All he had to do was hit the button to launch each copter and then tag its target with the laser pointer. The autonomous robotic copters would use the infrared sensors to mark the target, store the location in memory, and guide themselves there.
Zim threw the parachute clear. He could feel hundreds of pairs of eyes on him. The melee had stopped, the participants mesmerized by the sight of Zim emerging from underneath the billowing chute. A few of them looked up at the sound of the approaching helicopter, but most of them kept their eyes on Zim.
He pointed the laser and clicked twice, then tapped the pack’s GO button. With the target locked in, the top quadcopter whirred to life, its propellers reaching maximum speed even before Zim could take his finger off the button. It zipped away on its fatal mission. Zim repeated the process, and the copter that had been below it followed suit. Within a couple of seconds, all four copters were buzzing toward their victims, one each for the two nearest guard towers and two toward the site of the prison melee.
Even an expert marksman would find it almost impossible to hit such a swift target. But Zim didn’t have to worry. Not one
guard got off a shot as they simply watched the danger whizzing toward them.
The first copter went straight through the window and blew up in the middle of the tower room. A guard’s body went flying across the yard, landing like a rag doll next to the fence.
The second copter turned its target guard tower into a smoking ruin.
With the guard towers no longer a threat, the helicopter shot over the external fence as the final pair of quadcopters plowed into the crowd of men in the yard and detonated. Their screams were drowned out by the sound of the explosion. Those who weren’t felled in the carnage scattered in all directions, prisoners and guards united in a frightened stampede toward a safe location.
Time to leave.
The Bell Jetranger set down in the yard next to Zim, who jumped aboard while ducking automatic weapon fire now coming from the more distant intact guard towers.
As the helicopter lifted off, smoke billowed from the back. Zim saw the choking black soot and thought there could be no other conclusion than that the engine had been hit by a stray bullet.
* * *
Tyler and Harris were just turning onto the I-5 entrance ramp when Harris’s phone rang.
“Harris,” she answered, followed by a short pause, then “What? How?” She dropped the phone into her lap and hit the brakes so hard that Tyler was thrown against his seatbelt. Harris turned in her seat and shifted into reverse to back down.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“There’s an escape in progress at the prison.”
Tyler felt his stomach clench. “Zim. How?”
“Helicopter landed in the yard. One of the guards thinks he hit it.”
“Did they see which way it went?”
“North. The sheriff’s office is scrambling their air assets.”
“Then why are you backing up?”
“The Coalinga airport is northwest of the prison. Zim will know that the state patrol will set up roadblocks for miles around the prison. His best chance of escape is by air, and the helicopter will be too identifiable, especially now that it’s smoking.”
The Loch Ness Legacy tl-4 Page 5
