The Loch Ness Legacy tl-4

by Boyd Morrison

  As Harvin shifted to put the radio back on his belt, Brielle slumped over into his lap. The maneuver was a challenge because she was belted in to restrict her mobility, but neither Harvin nor Gaither were wearing theirs. They both laughed, thinking that she was trying to win her freedom the hard way.

  When Harvin put his hands on her shoulders to pull her up, he was in exactly the position she’d wanted, his face above the back of her head. With a lightning strike, she snapped her head backward, and her skull smacked Harvin directly in the nose.

  The plates of the skull are many times stronger than the soft cartilage and thin bones of the nose. Even if she didn’t kill Harvin by driving bone fragments into his brain, the excruciating pain would leave him in a daze for the seconds she needed.

  Brielle popped up and saw blood gushing down Harvin’s chin. Before Gaither could react, she sat back, stepped on the seatback release, and slammed the soles of her feet into the back of the driver’s seat. Using every muscle fiber in her quads, she jammed Gaither against the steering wheel so hard that he couldn’t take his foot off the accelerator, let alone follow the curving road around the bend.

  By this time, Harvin had recovered enough to paw at her legs, but the injury to his face had sapped his strength. His arms were no match for her legs.

  Gaither, his mouth muffled from being plastered against the steering wheel, screamed as the Blazer flew off the road.

  Brielle could see they were headed for a huge Douglas fir. Just before the Blazer’s grill met bark, she released her legs so they wouldn’t snap on impact.

  The SUV’s hood crumpled, but no air bags erupted out of the old vehicle. Only the sounds of crunching metal and shattering glass. The Blazer was tossed sideways and rolled twice down the hill before it came to a rest, its wheels tilted against another fir.

  Brielle had to shake the cobwebs out to get her bearings. Other than a good smack of her head against the side pillar, she was intact.

  The two unbelted men weren’t doing as well. Gaither’s head drooped at an impossible angle. He was dead.

  But Harvin was still alive. The moaning told her so. And if he got his wits back while she was still in the vehicle, he’d make her pay.

  Brielle sucked in her breath and reached with her hands until she could touch the seatbelt release. With a press of the button, she was free.

  Of course, her hands were still tied behind her and she was stuck in the back seat.

  The fir on the driver’s side made it impossible to get out that way. The passenger window, however, was open. She had to get as far from the SUV as possible before Harvin could return to his senses and bring his assault rifle to bear.

  Brielle fumbled the radio from Harvin’s belt holster and awkwardly held onto it as she slithered past him, flopping onto the front passenger seat. She got a good look at Gaither, whose face was a bloody mess.

  Brielle wished she could take one of the M4s with her, but with her hands tied behind her back, she couldn’t pick up the weapon. Giving thanks for all those yoga classes she’d endured, she contorted herself until she was in a sitting position and then pushed herself up through the window. Harvin made a weak grab for her hair, but she pulled free and fell onto the soft needles of the forest floor, the radio still clutched in her hands. She rolled over and got to her knees.

  In another moment she was on her feet and running.

  FOURTEEN

  Crowds. Grant never liked them much unless they were cheering for him. His days before the Army when he was a professional wrestler meant he got to absorb the adulation of fifteen thousand raucous fans at a time in arenas around the country. It was fun then, but he’d gotten his fill, and after he left the service he never had the urge to go back to that life. Now he was squeezing through the throngs of people in the Pike Place Market trying to find Alexa, who still wasn’t answering.

  Tourists flocked to the Market, a century-old Seattle institution, almost as much as they did to the Space Needle. Situated on a steep hill overlooking Elliott Bay, Pike Place Market is the home of the original Starbucks as well as the venerable Pike Place Fish Market store where crowds gather to watch fishmongers toss thirty-pound salmon to the register to be purchased. On every day of the year, thousands of visitors stroll through the halls taking in the rich colors and scents of fresh fish and crab from Alaska, produce straight from Washington farms, bouquets of flowers, and crafts from local artisans. Dozens of restaurants and shops are tucked away in the multi-level building.

  When Tyler got the message from Brielle, he had a tough decision to make. Grant was honored that Tyler trusted him to find his sister since Tyler was the only one who could go in search of Brielle. Grant had brought along Miles and Aiden to comb the vast market looking for Alexa’s eye-catching shock of scarlet hair.

  Even with that distinctive mane, finding her would be a challenge, assuming Alexa hadn’t been abducted already. Grant had never seen Tyler so stressed. The two of them had been in hairy combat situations and nearly blown up by bombs too many times to count, but the thought of losing his only sister was devastating. Grant himself felt more than his usual amount of nerves, though he didn’t know if that was because of the danger to Alexa or because of his own impending death.

  Grant denied the effects of the poison to Tyler, but he could no longer ignore them himself. The fatigue, the aching muscles and joints, and the sagging of his skin that had been bothering him for the last few days — all of it made sense now. They were the initial symptoms of his sickness, and he could tell that they were getting worse by the hour, accelerating in their intensity. Even his vision and hearing were starting to fade. It was now only a question of how long he could fight the toxin and stay upright.

  The knowledge that he had only a week or so to live made him surprisingly focused on his near-term future. What could he do with his time left? Help out his friend, for one, by making sure his sister was all right. Two, he could find who was behind all of this. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to get revenge before he died, but he could get justice.

  And what about his legacy? He didn’t think he’d have to face that until he was in his eighties, if he ever did at all. He’d stared down death many times, but it had always been in the moment, without time to consider the implications thoroughly, just pure adrenaline. Now that he could see the scythe raising to cut him down, there were elements of his life that were suddenly out of reach. Working hard and playing hard and going on adventures around the globe meant never getting married or having kids. Did he regret that? Grant reminded himself about Victor Zim’s threat to Alexa and decided that attempting any deep reflection — never his strong suit in any case — would have to wait until he was laid up in a hospital bed.

  “I’m near the Starbucks, and I don’t see her,” Grant said into his wireless headset. He, Miles, and Aiden were conferenced together on their cell phones. “Anyone else?”

  “I’m by the bronze pig,” Miles replied. “No sign of her.”

  “Nothing at the opposite end, either,” Aiden said. “I’ll head back in your direction. Why don’t you stay there in case she comes up from the other way?”

  “Will do. Grant, did she mention where they were planning to meet?”

  “No. And I’ve tried Mike Dillman several times at the number Aiden found, but it goes straight to voicemail.”

  “The last GPS signal from her phone indicated she made it here,” Aiden said. “But that was fifteen minutes ago. Now the phone is off. She could be gone already.”

  “I’m not giving up until we’ve searched every part of the market,” Grant said. “It might be nothing more than a dead battery.”

  The silence that came in reply told him neither Miles nor Aiden believed that, either.

  “Let’s all meet at the pig,” Grant said. “I’ll finish my sweep and be there in a couple of minutes.”

  * * *

  Alexa’s spectacular view of the snowy Olympic mountain range framing the arrival of a Washington State ferry was
spoiled by Michael Dillman’s paranoid ravings. The Sound View Café was crammed with tourists, many of whom were from the enormous Celebrity cruise ship docked at the downtown terminal. Because the Pike Place Market restaurant was a short walk from the ship, it was a popular stop for a quick lunch and scenery gaping. Alexa didn’t think a single person was paying attention to them, but that didn’t stop Dillman from making her lean in close to hear him.

  “I’m telling you,” he said with a conspirator’s whisper, “they hacked into my computer, and I’m pretty sure they did the same with my phone.” A ponytail hung from the bottom of his beat-up Seahawks baseball cap and his darting eyes were barely visible behind dark sunglasses. A reed-thin hand nervously picked at the left cuff of his windbreaker.

  “Who?” Alexa said, exasperated. “You’re a videographer. What could you possibly have that’s valuable to anyone? No offense.”

  “None taken. You’re going to think I’m crazy, but it seemed like they were looking through my files on the Loch Ness monster.”

  He was right. She did think he was crazy. Someone breaking into Dillman’s home to see his Loch Ness files? “Why would anyone do that?”

  Dillman slurped his Coke. “I don’t know. What I do know is that my home office was discreetly disturbed. Believe me, I know where everything is down to the inch. Someone messed around with my stuff and then tried to put it back where they found it. It might even be bugged. And I found key-logging software on my computer.”

  “Maybe you downloaded a virus.”

  “No way. It was loaded by a USB drive. I think it also infected my phone. They might have done the same to yours. That’s why I had you turn it off.”

  When Alexa had arrived at their pre-planned meeting place at Starbucks, Dillman had called her and told her to rendezvous with him where they’d first met, which only the two of them knew to be the Sound View Café. Then he made her promise to turn off her phone before she walked over there, claiming it couldn’t be tracked while it was powered down. When Dillman joined her at the restaurant, he told Alexa that he’d covertly observed her walk from Starbucks and didn’t spot anyone following her.

  To say Alexa was dubious would be an understatement. Dillman had always been somewhat of an oddball, entertaining her during their tedious work with tales of CIA black programs and alien visitations. She’d expected those kinds of stories from someone convinced that Bigfoot and the Loch Ness monster existed. But a conspiracy targeting him personally? Now she was worried about the guy.

  “Have you heard from Laroche lately?” he asked her.

  “You’re the second person to ask me that this morning.”

  Dillman’s hackles went up. “Who else did?”

  “My brother, Tyler. He wanted to know what I’ll be doing while I’m here in Seattle. I’ve been trying to see Mr. Laroche, but Marlo won’t tell me anything.”

  Marlo Dunham was Laroche’s top-notch executive assistant. She knew everything about his business dealings and essentially took care of the long-time bachelor’s life. Dunham didn’t talk about it much, but Alexa knew the two of them had common tragic histories, which was the reason Laroche had hired her in the first place. They kept a professional relationship, but the bond Laroche and Dunham shared seemed to be strong. For her not to know where he was — coupled with Dillman’s story — gave Alexa the first stirrings of concern.

  “I did get an email from him a few days ago,” she said.

  “What did it say?”

  “It was about searching for Nessie, but it was kind of cryptic.”

  “How so?”

  “It was all over the place. He talked about playing the opening of the Fifth and about squids and hippos and how I should keep looking for the Loch Ness monster. It didn’t make much sense.”

  “See? He didn’t send anything to me. He probably knew I was compromised.”

  “Michael, if you’re really concerned about this, I can ask Tyler to go over your computer and cell phone to figure out what happened.”

  “Is he some kind of computer hacker?”

  “No, he’s a partner in an engineering firm. It’s his company, really. They have experts who can check out this kind of thing.”

  “He’d do that for you?”

  “Sure. That’s what big brothers are for.”

  Dillman scrunched his face in thought, then nodded. “I knew you were the only one I could trust.”

  Alexa stood. “Come on. His office is only a few blocks away. I’ll take you over there.”

  “Now?”

  “Why not? You tell him your story, and he’ll have someone check your phone while we’re talking.”

  “Okay.” Dillman got up and scanned the restaurant. No one so much as glanced at them as far as Alexa could tell.

  “Let me give Tyler a call to let him know we’re on the way.”

  Dillman seemed about to protest but held his tongue. Alexa turned on her phone as they exited the restaurant into the walkway leading to the main market area.

  When it came on, it showed that she had six messages, three from Tyler and three from Grant. She also had a text from Tyler that said, “Urgent!!!! Call me or Grant now!!!”

  She stopped abruptly before they got to the crowd hovering around the outskirts of the store where they were throwing the fish from the iced display racks to the register at the center.

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know,” Alexa said. “Something’s wrong.”

  * * *

  Grant hit Answer as soon as he saw who the call was from.

  “Alexa, are you all right?”

  “Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be? I tried calling Tyler, but I couldn’t reach him.”

  “He’s on his way north.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t explain right now. Where are you?”

  “I’m at Pike Place Market.”

  “Where in the market?”

  “Near the fish-throwing place.”

  “Okay. Stay where you are. I’ll be there in sixty seconds.” He accelerated his pace, dodging people as he walked.

  “You’re here?”

  “Yes. We’ll get you out of here and tell you everything in the van.”

  He hung up and the phone switched back to the conference call. “Where are you guys?”

  “At the pig,” Miles said.

  “I’m inside,” Aiden said. “Be there in a…wait a moment. I think I see Alexa near the Fish Market.”

  “Good,” Grant said. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “She seems to be chatting with some bloke.”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t know. She’s talking to him about you.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I used to be deaf, remember? Just because I can hear now doesn’t mean I can’t still read lips.”

  “That must be Dillman.”

  “Hold on. There are two other men looking at them.”

  “Tourists?”

  “Muscle-bound types. Thick jackets and necks. Not here on holiday.”

  “Can you see what they’re saying?” Miles asked.

  “One said…oh shite! I think he said, ‘we only need one of them alive.’”

  Grant sprinted toward the famous clock sign that read public market center, huffing with effort as he ran. The fishmonger was directly underneath it. He could see Miles motoring inside, his iBot wheelchair cranked to its full height.

  Aiden’s voice went up an octave. “The two men just went up to Alexa and the bloke. It looks like they have guns at their backs!”

  Grant turned the corner. He caught Alexa’s eye. The look of fear on her face was unmistakable. Grant and Miles weren’t armed, and there were no cops in the vicinity. If these men started shooting in the dense crowd, it could quickly turn into a bloodbath.

  The throng watching the fishmongers was so impenetrable that the gunmen steered Alexa and Dillman around it into the morass of people strolling through the market. Running would hav
e been an option for them if the gunmen didn’t have hands wrapped around their arms.

  “Aiden, you hang back and call the police,” Grant said, trying to catch his breath. “I’m right behind you, Miles. Can you get the guy with Dillman?”

  “He won’t know what hit him.”

  Grant caught up with Miles but didn’t act like he was with him. They put themselves directly in the path of Alexa and Dillman. Alexa was on Grant’s left, closest to the crowd watching the flying fish.

  Grant fell in behind Miles as if he were waiting for the slow disabled man to move it while the crowd traveling in the opposite direction flowed past. The positioning meant the two gunmen would have to separate and walk around them to either side.

  Alexa stared at them, but Grant tried to ignore her. He hoped she was aware enough to keep quiet. If the gunmen suspected anything were about to happen, they’d lose the element of surprise.

  As he hoped, the two gunmen shoved Alexa and Dillman apart as Miles approached.

  “Pardon me,” Miles said loudly as he jostled Alexa aside.

  She stumbled more than the gunman behind her expected. Miles’ right hand grabbed the pistol and twisted it out of the kidnapper’s hand. His left hand threw a wicked uppercut to the gunman’s jaw, sending him reeling backward.

  The distraction caused the man behind Dillman to release his grip and turn toward Miles. Grant was in a perfect position to launch himself at his target. He caught the man’s wrists and pushed them toward the ceiling as he shoved the man backward, toppling several tourists as they stumbled toward the ice racks.

  Shouts and screams from the surrounding patrons only got louder when Grant’s gunman fired several shots at the ceiling. The crowds scattered as the two of them landed on the freezing piles of ice used to chill the fish. Out of the corner of his eye, Grant saw Dillman run toward the street.

  “Dillman, come back!” Grant shouted, but even his deep basso was inaudible over the din.