As fast as she could safely go, she headed for the dirt road that would take her back to the highway. Her tuck job at the back hadn’t been as perfect as she’d hoped, and the blanket flapped. But the glimpses of the road in her rearview mirror showed no lights heading her way.
When she felt there were enough trees between her and the construction site, she flipped on her headlights and pushed the pedal to the floor.
She was going to make it. She was going to get out of this. With the proof.
Those bastards, whoever they were, would go down. Hard.
As she came out of the final bend, she slammed on her brakes.
A sedan sat diagonally across the end of the access road. And not just any sedan—a Scolareon security vehicle, with two men in front.
There was a moment when neither Tasha nor the men did anything. She had no idea what they were thinking but knew she had a choice. It was possible security knew nothing about the crimes she’d uncovered, meaning they would help her. But what if they were well aware of the issue, or even involved? For now, she knew trusting anyone who worked for Scolareon would be a mistake.
Putting the Prius in reverse, she looked back.
“Dammit.”
She’d forgotten about the blanket. She switched her gaze to the side mirror and raced backward as best she could. For the first fifty feet she did fine, but she made the mistake of glancing forward to check on the security car. When she returned her eyes to the mirror, she misjudged her position and swerved the car back toward the center of the road. But she overcorrected, and the car rocked as the passenger side drifted off the shoulder and swiped a tree.
She jerked the wheel, angling the Prius’s back end toward the center of the road, but before she could straighten again, the front passenger fender smashed into the same trunk, stopping her.
Ahead, the security sedan was driving toward her.
Tasha didn’t waste any time trying to see if she could get the car back on the road. She gunned it forward toward a wide spot between the trees, hoping there would be enough room to weave her way through.
Of course there wasn’t, and the natural trail lasted no more than forty yards before a tree seemed to jump in front of her.
She slammed on the brakes, but the tree was too close and the Prius smashed into the trunk. The airbag ejected from the steering wheel, knocking her back against her seat, stunning her.
Get out!
Her hand pawed at the door, taking what seemed like forever to find the handle. When it did, she yanked the lever back and shoved the door open.
Her car’s headlights were still on, bouncing off the trees. The pine she struck tilted away from her at an angle, not enough to fall but it wouldn’t take much for it to do so.
Go! Go!
She stumbled out of the cab.
“Hey! Hey, you! Stay right there!”
The security car was parked at the spot where she’d left the road, and the officers who’d been in it were now outside, one standing near the front end pointing at her, the other already running in her direction.
She shot into the woods, having no destination in mind except anywhere but where she was. The guard shouted again but she didn’t even try to understand him.
The highway, she thought. If she could get there, she could flag down another driver. Though it was at least a mile away, getting there was the only chance she had of evading capture.
She turned what she hoped was westward, and ran like she hadn’t run since high school, leaping over bushes she saw and smashing through those she didn’t. She hoped her course correction would throw off the guards, but when she glanced back, she spotted flashlight beams bobbing among the trees, heading her way.
The forest seemed to go on forever, and soon she lost all sense of how long she had been running. Ten minutes? Fifteen? However long, the highway had to be coming up soon.
After she cut through a slot between two trees, and raced down and up a narrow ravine, she heard something that nearly stopped her in her tracks. A rumble that sounded like an engine.
She raced toward the noise, and within a few seconds caught a glimpse of headlights ahead to the right.
Her moment of joy was tempered, however, by the cracking of a branch somewhere behind her, and the sound of running steps, closer than before. The Scolareon security guards must have heard the engine, too, and knew they would lose her if she reached the highway.
As the headlights sped past, a second set appeared. Judging by its speed, the car would also be gone before she reached the highway. She scanned left and right, hoping to spot other cars, but either the trees were blocking them or there were no others at the moment.
Her panic increased. If she reached the highway but found no vehicles to flag down, the men chasing her would still nab her.
Rig the game in your favor, Davos had preached over and over. If you control the options, you control the ultimate outcome.
But how could she control this outcome? She couldn’t keep running all the way back to Bradbury.
Her hand brushed against her pants—catching on the jump drives in her pocket.
Not this outcome. The ultimate outcome.
Maybe she couldn’t get away right now, but she could give herself a fighting chance later.
She looked around for a landmark she could remember, and after several seconds spotted a dead tree leaning at an angle against two live ones.
Near the highway. West of the access road. Leaning dead tree.
She could remember that. She repeated the location a few more times to commit it to memory as she pulled out one of the drives and angled toward the three trees. When she was positive she was out of sight of her pursuers, she paused just long enough to stuff the jump drive into a split in the wood, and then resumed running.
She saw another distant set of headlights, and knew this time she would reach the road in time. The only question was whether the car would arrive before the guards did. She channeled her remaining energy into an all-out sprint.
Almost there. Almost there. Almost—
Twenty feet shy of the forest’s edge, hands latched onto her shoulders and pulled her back. Her feet flew out from under her and she fell, landing first on her hip and then flopping onto her back, her head bouncing off the ground like a basketball.
She lay on a bed of needles, dazed and gasping for air. Gray hovered at the edges of her vision, threatening to drag her into unconsciousness.
A foot jabbed her in the ribs. “Nice try, bitch.”
Her brow creased as she tried to focus. The fuzzy form of a man looked down at her. Another couple of blinks and she could make out his face and security uniform. She didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t mean anything. She could have passed him a million times at the office and never really seen him.
He seemed to be talking into his hand, but her brain couldn’t untangle what he was saying.
Another voice, this one altered, like coming out of a TV, and then the guard again. “Roger.”
Was that his name? Or the name of the man he was talking to?
She tried to sit up, but the man shoved her back down.
“Better if you stay right there, Miss Patterson.”
She closed her eyes, the fog in her head clearing at a glacial rate. She was aware enough, however, to realize he’d recognized her.
When she opened her eyes again, the guard who’d tackled her had become two men. She blinked, thinking one would vanish, and then realized the second man was not a clone of the first. This man she knew. Leonard Yates, Scolareon’s head of security.
He knelt beside her, looking disappointed. “Well, well, Ms. Patterson. You are a long way from the office.”
She pressed her lips together.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t say anything, either.” He grinned. “You’re a tricky one, you know that? Coming all the way out here to get onto the network. That was…unexpected. You don’t mind if I pat you down, do you?”
She kept her express
ion as blank as she could manage. But it was no easy task. Though he hadn’t said it directly, he’d implied he knew why she was out here, which meant he was one of them.
“No objection?” he said. “Good.”
He removed her shoes and pulled out the soles. He then moved his hands up her pant legs to her hips, tapping his palms over her pockets. All very professional, with no hint of inappropriate intentions. He moved on to her shoulders, the sleeves of her light jacket, and the jacket’s pockets. That’s where he paused.
“What do we have here?” He reached inside and pulled out the jump drive. “Oh, Ms. Patterson. I gotta tell you, this does not look good. If this has on it what I think it does, you’re in some pretty deep shit.”
Like she didn’t know that already.
Get this over with and take me wherever you’re going to take me, asshole. She knew they couldn’t keep her locked up forever. When she was free again, she would return here and retrieve the backup drive.
She would have the last laugh.
Near the highway. West of the access road. Leaning dead tree.
She would not let herself forget.
“What were you planning on doing with this?” he said, holding the stick in front of her face.
Near the highway. West of the access road. Leaning dead tree.
“Give it to that lawyer you sent the email to?”
She halted halfway through her mantra, her eyes widening. He was one of them.
Yates chuckled. “You didn’t think we’d actually let your message get through, did you? No, I’m afraid Mr. Gaines will not be hearing from you.”
It doesn’t matter. When I get the backup drive, none of this will matter. Near the highway. West of the access road. Leaning dead tree.
Yates stood up and twirled the jump drive in his hand. “In fact, no one will be hearing from you ever again.”
Near the highway. West of the access—
His boot slammed into her head.
“Watch her. I’ll get the car,” Yates said. “If she comes to, give her another kick.”
Yates hiked over to the dirt road. It would get him back to the access road and their patrol car a lot faster than tramping through the woods. Before he emerged from the trees, he pulled out his phone and called his brother.
“So?”
“It’s done,” Yates said. “We got her.”
“So it was Patterson.”
“Yep. And get this, she had a portable drive on her.”
A pause. “Do you know what’s on it?”
“Not yet. But I think we both can guess.”
“And her condition?”
“Nothing a few aspirin and a Band-Aid or two wouldn’t take care of. We’ll get things cleaned up here. As soon as I get back to the office, I’ll check the drive then destroy it.”
“You’re sure she hasn’t tried to contact anyone other than that lawyer?”
“I’m sure.” That was not completely true. Yates was sure she hadn’t used Scolareon’s network to contact anyone, but she could have used other means. Still, if she had, why did she come out here on her own? “I was thinking you might be able to use her for the upcoming session. She put up a hell of an effort trying to get away from us.”
“Is that so? Not a bad idea. Have your boys bring her to the barn and I’ll meet them there.”
“Will do.”
Yates hung up and dialed his office.
“Scolareon Security, how can I help you?”
“It’s Yates. Put me through to Jennings.”
“Yes, sir. One moment.”
Jennings picked up a few seconds later. “Hey, boss. Any luck?”
“It was Patterson, all right. We got her.”
“Great!”
“I’m going to have Murphy and Howell take her to the barn, so they won’t be back on rotation for at least ninety minutes.”
“I’ll adjust coverage.”
“Good. One other thing. Starting tomorrow morning, I want two people on duty at the solar farm at all times. Set up one of the temp gates on the access road and have one guy stationed there, and put the other inside the fence.”
“On it.”
Chapter Three
Two Weeks Later
As was his habit, the Administrator took a moment to check his notes and straighten his tie prior to activating the video call with his employer.
The wall in front of him was filled with monitors, each presenting a silent feed from different news outlets around the world. When he tapped ENTER on his keyboard, the center monitor switched from a visual of a news desk in Tokyo to a blue screen. Out of the speakers, the soft dong of the ringing line sounded twice, before the blue screen cut to a live image of committee member Monday.
“Good afternoon, sir,” the Administrator said.
“Good afternoon.” Monday looked at his watch. “You have ten minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
The committee consisted of extremely wealthy individuals from around the world. There were supposed to be seven members, but they were down to five due to the unexpected murder of one member and the ouster of another for breaking committee rules.
Other than their wealth, the members shared one other quality. At some point in their lives, all had experienced devastating pain caused by the death or deaths of loved ones whose lives could have been saved if someone had had the guts to intervene. This idea of intervention was the reason the committee existed, its purpose. Their sole focus was to identify dire situations that could be made right if someone stepped in, and then do just that. The members themselves didn’t perform the actual “saving,” of course. They were the deciders of the missions, the funders, the judges of those who needed to be judged.
For the missions, the Administrator—who served as the committee’s chief operations officer—had recently assembled a strike team. It was a mix of highly skilled agents from the worlds of espionage and personal security. They had completed one mission so far, admirably. The problem weighing on the Administrator’s mind was that only one member of the team had committed to continue working with the committee, and that was due to the member’s unique circumstances. If the man had not agreed to stay on, he would have been returned to prison. The others, who had no such stick hanging over them, had yet to decide.
The Administrator wanted to change that, hence the call to Monday, who, unbeknownst to his colleagues on the committee, was the founder and driving force behind their work.
“I would like your permission to hold a meeting this evening,” the Administrator said.
“The purpose?”
“A new mission.”
“Davos?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So you did find something.”
“It’s more what we didn’t find.”
Scott Davos, a billionaire entrepreneur, was a friend of Monday’s, and would have been a perfect candidate to fill one of the committee’s openings if not for the fact he was missing that crucial personal-loss requirement. While he remained unaware of the committee, he did know Monday could discreetly look into sensitive matters in a way Davos lacked.
“And what didn’t you find?” Monday asked.
“The woman, sir. Like Mr. Davos mentioned, there are emails and texts sent not only to Davos, but some of the woman’s family and friends that attempted to make everything seem okay. What we have not found, though, is any physical evidence of her being where ‘she’ says she is. We have expanded the scope to places she might logically have gone, with still no luck.”
“It could be she just wanted some time off the grid.”
“A few days perhaps,” the Administrator admitted. “But two weeks for someone in her position? Not very likely.”
“What’s your proposal?”
“I would like the committee to vote on activating the team.”
“It’s only been a few days since they finished the Nevada incident. Should we be rushing them back into action so soon?”
“
They’re professionals. This is what they do.” Though that was true, the Administrator’s real motivation was born out of concern that the more time between the first and second missions, the more likely the team members would decide to never take his calls again. The busier he kept them now, the better chance he had at convincing them to sign on permanently.
“The committee will wonder why this mission instead of the Lambert matter,” Monday said.
The Lambert matter was supposed to be the next job on their list.
“Yes, sir. I will be happy to inform everyone that the Lambert case is no longer an issue.”
This solicited a rare look of surprise from Monday. “Explain.”
“I have it on good authority that early tomorrow morning, federal agents will arrive simultaneously at the Lambert ranch and at their distribution centers in Fairbanks and Anchorage with search and arrest warrants.”
“And how did the feds get involved?”
“I really can’t say, sir. What I do know is that their intervention comes at a fortuitous time, and that they are likely to take the Lamberts unaware. The terror and reprisals experienced by those who have run afoul of the family should cease immediately.”
Federal involvement had, of course, been the Administrator’s doing. The two men both knew it. Though looping in the government was not something they wanted to make a habit of, it had cleared the way for the Davos job to come front and center.
“Lucky us, I guess,” Monday said. He leaned forward. “Send out the invitation, and make preparations to send the team in.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Chapter Four
The Next Day
Boulder, Colorado
Ananke slept right through her alarm, through the repeatedly ringing bell indicating someone was at her front gate, through the squawking of crows outside her bedroom window, and through the buzzing of her phone all eight times Shinji called her.
When her finally eyes parted, it was nearly noon.
Though she had returned from London the previous day, it wasn’t jet lag that had kept her in bed. She seldom suffered from it, and she’d been in the UK for only a little over twenty-four hours, not nearly enough time to reset her internal clock.
Town at the Edge of Darkness (The Excoms Book 2) Page 2
