Town at the Edge of Darkness (The Excoms Book 2)

by Brett Battles

  A motor raised her into the air, and the rig transported her to the dentist chair. After she was strapped into the seat, the kid picked up a gun-like device from the tray and placed it against the base of her neck.

  “Son of a bitch,” Ricky muttered.

  Though the instrument was crude, he’d seen its type when one was used on him.

  The kid pulled the trigger, and the gun recoiled off Rosario’s skin. He ran a finger over the contact point and smiled.

  When Ricky had been recruited to join the Administrator’s organization, one of the conditions had been that he agree to be implanted with tracking bugs so that the Administrator would always be able to find him. Five bugs, in fact, a few inserted in places Ricky couldn’t reach on his own. The device that had implanted those bugs was a more advanced version of the one the kid had used. Why the prisoners would need tracking bugs, Ricky didn’t know. But he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  Over the next twenty minutes, the guy performed the same task on the two other captives. Then he approached Ricky’s cell.

  He pointed at Ricky, then at his wrist, like he was wearing a watch.

  Your turn, he was saying.

  He laughed, and reached under the platform again.

  This time, the whoosh of gas was unmistakable.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ananke checked her phone as she walked from the Mustang back to her hotel room.

  Still nothing from Ricky.

  She tried calling him. Voice mail again. She tried Rosario. Same thing. She sent them both a text—CALL ME ASAP—and kept the cell in her hand as she walked. The device remained silent. She checked for active bugs again, but nothing new had appeared.

  When she reached her room, she opened her laptop and started a video chat with Shinji. “Can you get me a location on Ricky’s and Rosario’s phones?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “They should have checked in by now.”

  “Give me a second.”

  She stared at the computer while he worked.

  “That’s weird,” he said several moments later.

  “What?”

  “Their phones are gone.”

  “What do you mean, gone?”

  “Neither registers on the network.”

  “Try the satellite link.” The phones could use either cell or sat tech.

  “I did. Not there, either.” He tapped his keyboard. “The last cell tower they connected to is the one covering Green Hills Estates.”

  “None after that?”

  “No. The signal cut off while within its coverage, forty-seven minutes ago.”

  The worried look on his face mirrored what Ananke felt. Keeping Shinji on the computer, she called Liesel.

  “We have a problem.” She told Liesel about their friends being MIA. “Meet me in the parking lot next to the Cache Bar, then we’ll go together from there.”

  “On our way,” Liesel said.

  Ananke looked back at Shinji. “Anything new on Rally that could help us?”

  “Haven’t figured out who he really is yet, but he wasn’t born Devon Rally.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”

  “Oh, he’s created a pretty elaborate cover, but it’s still a cover. No doubt in my mind.”

  “Contact me the moment you have anything new.”

  “Will do.”

  As she headed out of her room, she knew there was one thing she needed to do before she rendezvoused with her friends. She had intended on ignoring the problem, but with Rosario and Ricky missing, it seemed a good idea to turn it to her advantage.

  Morgan lowered her binoculars just far enough for her to see the Collins Inn over the top of them. She was starting to think she was spinning her wheels by following Shawn, and that she was deluding herself in thinking the woman would lead her to Tasha.

  But she couldn’t go back home and sit around waiting again, either. She would go crazy.

  What, then? Approaching Scudder could still screw things up for Shawn, so it was best to keep that off the table for now.

  What about Scott Davos?

  He certainly wouldn’t be easy to get to, but she’d already contacted him once so he knew who she was, and if he really was worried about Tasha, Morgan was sure he would talk to her. At the very least, Davos could confirm whether Shawn was on the level or not.

  She raised the binoculars again. The hotel was still quiet, the Mustang right where it had been the last time she looked.

  I’ll give her thirty minutes. If Shawn didn’t show up by then, Morgan would work the Davos angle. And if she struck out with him, she’d—

  Something thumped against the passenger door.

  Morgan snapped her head around while reaching for her service weapon, which was tucked between the seat and the console.

  Shawn waved from the other side of the window. “Are you going to unlock this or what?”

  Morgan cursed under her breath, then triggered the electric lock.

  Shawn hopped into the other seat and fastened the belt.

  “What are you doing?” Morgan asked.

  “You have heard of global warming, right? I figured if you were going to keep following me, we should share a vehicle. Now, come on. We’re wasting time.”

  “Hold on. I’m not—”

  “Let’s go, let’s go. I’ve got two people in trouble and two waiting for us. Or would you rather I drive myself and keep pretending I don’t know you’re behind me?”

  Morgan started the engine. “Where are we going?”

  “Cache Bar. Fast.”

  Morgan headed back to the highway and turned north.

  “Why are your friends in trouble?”

  “That’s a good question. I don’t know.”

  “What happened?”

  “Same answer.”

  They rode in silence for half a minute.

  “Did you learn anything from Scudder?” Morgan asked.

  Shawn looked at her and smirked. “Only that he’s not involved.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “A hundred percent? No, but close enough.”

  More silence.

  “Not going to ask me about Digital Paste?” Shawn said.

  “I was thinking about it. Why did you go to Digital Paste?”

  “Because I’m pretty sure Devon Rally is involved.”

  “Rally, that prick?”

  “I see you’ve had the pleasure.”

  “We’ve received a complaint or two, but no charges filed.”

  “Let me guess,” Shawn said. “He’s all smiles and hands.”

  Morgan nodded. “And unfortunately has the cash to make his problems go away. What makes you think he’s involved?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  A few minutes later, they turned into the Cache Bar’s parking lot.

  “Over there, far end of the lot.” Shawn pointed at a sedan sitting by itself.

  Morgan recognized it as the one she’d seen Shawn’s associates use when Shawn was at TJ’s Grill with Scudder. Morgan parked next to it, and she and Shawn took seats in the back of the sedan. The Irish guy was behind the wheel and the Asian woman in the passenger seat.

  They both glanced at Morgan suspiciously before looking at Shawn.

  “Under the circumstances, I thought we could use some extra help.”

  “Not a bad choice,” the Irish guy said. “So, any word from—” He glanced at Morgan again, not sure if he should continue.

  Shawn frowned, said, “Right,” and turned to Morgan. “Okay, here’s the deal. My name’s not Shawn Ramey. It’s Ananke. My friends here are Dylan and Liesel. The two who are missing are Rosario, who you know as Caroline, and Ricky. He’s the one who helped Dylan split open your head.”

  “Which, if I may remind everyone, wasn’t on purpose,” Dylan threw in.

  Ananke said to him, “The answer is no. I still haven’t heard from them.”

  Morgan was not surprised the Shawn Ramey name
had been a cover. She wouldn’t be shocked if the new names were false, too.

  Ananke turned to her again. “Are you familiar with Dalton Slater?”

  Morgan’s face tightened. “I went to school with his daughter.”

  “You don’t sound too happy about it.”

  “Let’s just say they’re not a very tolerant family.”

  “Did you know that he’s your chief of police’s stepson?”

  “What?” She had not known that.

  “And half brother to your chief’s other son, Leonard Yates?”

  “Is that really true?”

  “We haven’t performed a DNA test, but, yeah, it’s true. Last night there was a…delivery at Scolareon that we think involved the involuntary transportation of people.”

  Harris’s brow furrowed. “You mean trafficking?”

  Ananke nodded. “Present were both Slater and Leonard Yates. Today I sent Rosario and Ricky to plant a tracking bug on Slater’s truck. They followed it to Devon Rally’s house in Green Hills Estates, and that’s where their phones went dead.”

  “You think they’re still at the house?” Harris said.

  “I don’t actually know if they got all the way there,” Ananke said. “I only know they were nearby earlier this afternoon. That’s what we’re going to go check right now. The thing is, I’d rather not use the main entrance to the estates, so please tell me you know another way in.”

  Morgan did indeed know another way.

  Back when she was a teenager, in the days before the valley became Green Hills Estates, she and her friends had explored pretty much every square inch of the county. In small and dying Bradbury, there had been little else to do.

  In the hills between the highway and the valley where the estates were now was a hidden place high school kids had been using as a party hangout for years.

  Morgan directed Dylan through wide gulches and barely visible roads into the hills.

  “Are you sure this is the right way?” Dylan asked, not for the first time.

  “Did you grow up around here?” Morgan said. “No, you didn’t.” A few minutes later, she pointed ahead. “See that tree up there on the right? The one that’s half dead?”

  “I see it,” Dylan said.

  “The turn’s just after it. It’ll be a little steep at first, so you’ll need some speed to get over the hump, but trust me.”

  As they neared the target tree, Dylan pressed down on the accelerator. As soon as they passed the marker and he saw the road, he whipped the car to the left and raced up a short slope. After cresting, the sedan thudded down, right in line with a pair of tire ruts carved through a grassy meadow.

  They crossed the clearing, reentered the woods, and soon were headed upward again. This time, the pseudo road looped back and forth so that the climb was not so difficult. Not long after it finally leveled off, the road ended in a clearing, with no other visible exits.

  “Where next?” Dylan asked.

  “Stop. We walk from here.”

  They piled out of the car and Morgan started toward the trail that would take them down into the valley.

  “Wait a minute,” Ananke called.

  Morgan glanced over her shoulder and saw the others gathered at the open trunk of the sedan. She jogged back to them. In the storage space were two black suitcases sitting side by side. One was open, revealing a rack of pistols, a section of ammo magazines, several cylindrical devices, a few rifles with folding stocks, and at least half a dozen boxes of ammunition.

  Ananke handed weapons out to her friends, took a pistol for herself, then grabbed a cylinder and attached it to the end of the barrel. A suppressor, Morgan realized.

  Ananke glanced at her. “You’re not getting one.”

  “It’s okay. I brought my own.” She opened the side of the zip-up hoodie she was wearing and flashed her service weapon.

  “Yeah. You’re leaving that here.”

  “What?”

  “This is our operation. If there’s any shooting going on, we’ll be doing it. And if that’s not reason enough for you, remember, you live here. You need to keep your hands as clean as possible.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m sure you will be. Now give me the gun.”

  Though Morgan didn’t like it, she handed over her weapon.

  Ananke put it in the case with the unused weapons, closed the top, and opened the second suitcase. Inside were several containers and a row of compact binoculars. She handed out the glasses, giving Morgan a pair, too.

  “If it comes to it, you can whack someone on the head with this.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Morgan said.

  Items she didn’t recognize were removed from some of the containers and divvied up between the three others. Lastly, Ananke pulled out four palm-sized leather pouches and tossed one to each of them, once more including Morgan.

  “Put it on,” Ananke said.

  “What is it?”

  “Radio. The disk is a microphone. Take off the protective backing and stick it on the inside of your collar. I’m sure you can figure out where to put the earpiece yourself.”

  Ananke shut the trunk, donned her radio, and looked around. “Everyone set?”

  “Set, boss,” Dylan said.

  “Set,” Liesel said.

  Morgan nodded. “Set.”

  “All right,” Ananke said. “Lead on.”

  Ananke, Liesel, and Dylan followed Harris through the woods along a single-file trail that led over the summit and down into the valley.

  As they passed through a gap between trees, Harris pointed to the northeast. “See that water? That’s the pond near where the old Linden farmhouse used to be.”

  Ananke raised her binoculars. “And the white building near it? That’s the barn?”

  Harris checked through her own glasses. “Yeah. And to the right of it and a little farther away, you can see part of Rally’s house.”

  Ananke picked out the mansion and scanned Rally’s property. “Anyone see Ricky’s motorcycle?”

  For nearly half a minute, they silently examined the valley below.

  “Found it,” Liesel said.

  “Where?”

  “You see that rise about a quarter mile southwest of the pond?”

  Ananke moved her binoculars. The top of the rise in question had been cleared and leveled, but currently was house-free. “I see it.”

  “It is on the downslope that is facing us, near the right corner.”

  Ananke scanned the slope until she spotted it. It was definitely a motorcycle. Ricky’s? Too far to know for sure.

  “Dylan, swing over there and check it out. The rest of us will head for the woods north of the barn.”

  Dylan nodded and headed down the slope, on a line that would take him farther south.

  With Harris still leading, the women hiked down the hill toward the pond. When the slope became more gradual, they made better time, and soon were on flat land.

  “Hold up,” Ananke whispered.

  Harris looked back, a question on her face.

  “Fence,” Ananke said, pointing past her. About thirty yards farther on, among the trees, a shadowy line traveled from left to right as far as she could see.

  Harris searched a bit before she saw it. “There wasn’t a fence there when I was a kid. But that was a long time ago.”

  “Stay behind me,” Ananke said.

  Moving forward, low and slow, she led them to a covered point twenty feet shy of the barrier, where they crouched down. While Liesel used the electronic signal detection app to check for cameras, Ananke scanned the fence through her binoculars. The barrier was five feet high, made of large gauge wire in a box-like pattern, strung between four-by-four wooden posts, and did not appear to be electrified.

  “No signals for at least fifty meters,” Liesel said.

  Ananke lowered her glasses. “You two stay here.”

  She crept up to the nearest fence post, and examined it to make sure she hadn’t
missed a connector that would allow a portion of the wire to be charged. There was nothing.

  She waved the others over and clicked on her mic. “Dylan? You reach the bike yet?”

  “Just a few seconds ago,” he said. “It’s Ricky’s bike, all right.”

  “Any sign of him or Rosario?”

  “No one here but me.”

  “Footprints?”

  “Checking.” He was silent for several seconds. “One set heading across the slope, toward the Rally house.” A short pause. “Two sets now. Second set smaller. They head down the slope.” The sound of sliding dirt and a whispered curse came over the line.

  “You all right?”

  “Word of warning. These pine needles are pretty damn slippery. Rode on my arse all the way to the bottom.”

  Liesel snorted.

  “Yeah, yeah, hilarious,” Dylan said. “Okay, got the trail again. They’re still heading toward Rally’s house.”

  “Follow them as far as you can, then meet us in the woods behind the barn. There’s a fence around the property, but no sign of surveillance.”

  “Copy.”

  Ananke, Liesel, and Harris climbed the fence and made their way through the forest until the barn came into view. Remaining in the safety of the trees, they scanned the area. There were no cars parked in back of the structure, or any doors or windows on the side of the building they could see.

  “You guys go right as far as you need and get a look around that side. I’ll check the one to the left.”

  The east and west ends of the barn were shorter ends. Ananke found a spot where she could see the one to the east. No cars were parked along that side, but there was a door smack dab at the midpoint of the wall.

  “I’ve got an entrance over here,” she said into her comm. “What about you guys?”

  “No, just a flat wall,” Liesel reported.

  “Come to where I am, then.”

  Ananke raised her binoculars. The door was shut and had no obvious locks. She made a sweep of the barn area to make sure she hadn’t missed anything.

  Tire tracks creased the dirt about twenty feet away from the barn. They paralleled the building and looked recently made. The tracks also looked wider than those made by a standard car, like they were created by tires on an RV.