Grounded (Out of the Box Book 4)

by Robert J. Crane

  “He was a damned cruel, torturous bastard,” Jamal said, teeth practically grinding. “You know why they picked him for the job? Because he didn’t care what happened to other human beings. Roscoe Marion enjoyed watching other people suffer. It’s all over his electronic record. You know what he did in his free time? Watched bum fight videos and worse. Cavanagh’s people figured out Roscoe had a mean streak, and they put him in a place where he could use his sadism to their advantage. The email I intercepted? It was to a friend of his, reaching out with a possible employment opportunity because they were looking for more sick sons of bitches to be lab techs.”

  “This is off the scale crazy,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “You’re telling me one of the biggest big shot billionaires is running a torture-porn style operation for the homeless right in urban Atlanta, backed by one of the most connected figures in local politics … and no one’s tumbled onto that until you and your homegrown, baby lightning computer hacking investigation?”

  “You came down here looking for me,” Jamal said. “Think about that. Flora’s death would have been written off as a robbery gone wrong. The Bluff—Vine City and English Avenue—is the fifth-highest rated neighborhood for crime in the entire U.S. These men prey on the weak. The nearly invisible. And they’ve got an operation that’s stitched up tight. So tight because guys like Laverne, Cavanagh and Weldon? They don’t leave loose ends or things to chance. They even buried their dead in Flora’s yard because, hell, no one was going to look there, and if they did, it wasn’t going to lead anywhere but to Flora, really. Only someone with the ability to parse the darkest corners of the net would ever be able to dig up a fraction of a trail.” He shook his head. “You could spin your wheels here for months, knowing it was Cavanagh and Weldon at the center of it, and you wouldn’t even have enough to get a reporter to publish a piece faintly suggesting they had anything to do with it.”

  “There’s a lab,” I said. “There’s got to be some proof in the lab.”

  “There might be,” Jamal agreed. “But as near as I can tell, there’s nothing that links Cavanagh to that lab. The payroll is done through a separate company that doesn’t co-mingle funds with his, that isn’t traceable to him as an owner, that he’s never set foot in—”

  “Yet the press seem to know he’s in the biotech business,” I said. “That he developed the suppressant.”

  “Yet another shell corporation,” Jamal said. “But that one you can trace to Cavanagh. The lab that developed it is in … Arizona or something, I think. Not Atlanta, for sure. He owns, like, fifty percent of it through a holding company and another forty-five percent through a fund he’s the primary investor in. Still, the water’s muddy enough he could deny he knew anything about it, and if the press was feeling charitable about him—which we know they always are—they’d give him a pass.”

  “So, what was he developing in the secret lab that he needed meta test subjects for?” Augustus asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jamal said. “There’s no internet record or footprint for that site. The place is a black hole without so much as a telephone connection, and they generate their own power. My next step was to gain access, but …” He waved a hand in the direction of their home. The smoke clouds were still visible on the horizon. “This happened. Kinda distracted me. I was going to do it tonight.”

  “You know they’re going to be on red alert now,” I said. “We’ve gone and stumbled right through the middle of their sandcastle city like Godzilla through Tokyo.”

  “You can tell how pissed they are because of how hard they’ve pushed back,” Augustus said. “I don’t even want to know what the Atlanta news is saying about us now. They probably know we were in on the throw-down in the street back there.”

  “Fleeing the scene might not have been the best move,” I agreed.

  “There’s no way Atlanta P.D. or the feds were going to let you walk out of there,” Jamal said, shaking his head. “At minimum, they were going to send you home. You’re causing too much stir. The White House is freaking out right now. You should hear the phone calls back and forth between the chief of staff and your agency. I had to turn down the volume on my computer.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “That’s a neat trick. Can you listen in on Cordell Weldon’s incriminating phone calls?”

  “I did try to listen in on him, actually,” Jamal said. “Since I started, he’s said nothing out of bounds, but he did work really hard to bring every legal kind of trouble down on you after your visit. Keep in mind I was only listening for a few hours, and … now all my stuff is burned.” He shook his head. “We’ve got nothing unless there’s something in the lab, and I doubt there is. You don’t go to the trouble of setting up a giant black site like that without taking the precautions of making sure it can’t be tied to you.”

  “How’d you get Taneshia involved in this?” Augustus asked.

  Jamal smiled faintly, but it faded quickly. “She introduced me to Flora. Helped put me on the track of Kennith through Darrick Cary—”

  “That little weasel,” Augustus said. “He didn’t think to mention that.”

  “He noticed Coy had some serious bank for a parolee,” Jamal said. “Taneshia was close with him and his lady, used to babysit their kid sometimes. Once she overheard Cary mention something about how Coy had suddenly come into a boatload of money. This was a few months back. It was enough to get me digging. I think she threw it to me to keep me from sulking, but … it turned into something.” He spoke with quiet resolution. “She didn’t know what I was going to do. Hell, I didn’t know what I was going to do when I set out to talk to him and Roscoe.” He lowered his head. “I just … they both … I miss her so much, and Coy, in particular was just … such a prick about it. I knew he knew something, but I don’t really have good control over the bigger bolts. I’ve been working on the fine connections since I learned about my powers, and so when he drew on me, I just let him have it. Afterward, I was … shaking, enraged. I went after Roscoe and … that didn’t go so well either.”

  “I think you might be understating that,” Augustus said.

  “So we’re at an impasse,” I said. “Without going into the lab, we’re stalled.”

  “We go into that lab, we’re probably going to be just as stalled,” Augustus said. “I mean, can we even bring the law down on that place?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Someone breaks in and dials 911 from inside the building—”

  “No telephone lines,” Jamal said.

  “From a cell phone?” I asked.

  “Might work,” Jamal said. “Certainly easier than getting a warrant, because that’ll never happen.”

  “Why not?” Augustus asked and then answered himself a moment later. “No ties to anything.”

  “No probable cause to believe a crime occurred there,” I said. “No witnesses, no legally collected evidence … just shadows and speculation.”

  “Man, for someone who championed the rule of law to me earlier,” Augustus said, “you sure don’t seem to believe it applies to you.”

  “This is how it always happens,” I said. “I keep coming up against people with abilities, powers, or in this case—power, of the political and monetary variety—that insulate them from evidence. There’s always a threat, there’s always a killing, there’s always a breakdown in the system that circumvents everything. Before Sovereign, it was the fact that the world of metas existed outside human law. Now it’s the fact that human law and enforcement is still trying to catch up to metas in general. Cavanagh is doing something here that’s dirty, and he’s got enough money to spread around that when combined with Weldon, they’ve locked out anybody from even looking for the truth. Without a press that’s willing to kill its darlings—or at least look at them as something other than flawless saviors—this thing is never going to see the inside of a courtroom.”

  I looked at Augustus, who had turned his gaze uncomfortably away from mine and was focused on Taneshia, who seemed to be heal
ing, albeit slowly compared to me. “Once again,” I said, “I’m left with a choice. Follow the law to the letter and allow them to escape, or go skirting the edges and do what’s right. My agency wants me to just walk away. Should I do that?”

  “No,” Augustus said, sullen.

  “Hell no,” Jamal said.

  “You almost seem gleeful about this,” Augustus said.

  “Oh, I’m as pleased as punch,” I said. “As in, I’m as pleased as if I were punching someone I hate in the face, because it looks like I might be doing that soon. I talked to an old friend about this situation, someone who’s familiar with Weldon, and he jokingly suggested I knock him out and drop him in the middle of the North Atlantic, just let him die of the landing or hypothermia and wash up on someone else’s shores.” Augustus’s eyes widened. “I’m not going to do that, obviously.”

  Augustus shook his head. “No. No. That was not an occasion for use of the word ‘obviously,’ because that would imply that no one would believe you’d do that.”

  I sighed. “Yeah. Okay. Well …”

  “How do you want to do this?” Augustus asked, and he sounded resigned. “You want to kill them all? I’m actually to the point of being so low I almost believe that’s the only way we’ll stop them.”

  I lowered my head. “No. It doesn’t have to be like that.”

  “I think it does,” Jamal said.

  “No,” I said. “Listen. I want them alive. I want them to feel that sick sensation of weightlessness that comes just before the fall. Men like Cavanagh and Weldon deserve to be broken and humiliated for what they’ve done.”

  “You honestly think they’ll see the inside of a cell?” Jamal asked.

  “You’re damned right they will,” I said. “We’re going to hang what they’ve done around their necks like a sign. We’re going to find a way to get the press to turn on them like the sharks they are, chum the waters with enough truth that not even the most head-up-their-ass reporter will be able to ignore it—”

  “They can ignore an awful lot,” Augustus said.

  “Not this,” I said. “All their friends are going to abandon them.” And I know what that feels like, I didn’t say. I wanted Weldon and Cavanagh to feel it, too.

  “Will that make you happy?” Augustus asked. He was watching me, looking for an answer that would satisfy.

  “It won’t make me sad,” I said. I wanted to say something reassuring, something that would repair the damage of having seen two of his personal heroes fall in as many days. Maybe three, if you counted me. I didn’t count me as one of his heroes, though.

  I did count me as fallen.

  “These men are snakes,” I said. “And snakes don’t show themselves as snakes, or even necessarily believe they’re villains. When I first met Sovereign, he was in disguise as a teenage boy with a crush on me.”

  Augustus’s eyes were glazed, wide, with his mouth slightly agape. “Whut?”

  “That didn’t make the news,” Jamal said.

  “There’s a lot that doesn’t,” I said softly. “So … the lab. If we’re lucky, maybe we can find something there to tie them to it, and if not, then at least we—”

  A loud tone sounded in the room. Augustus fumbled and snatched up his phone, staring at the faceplate. He held up the screen and I saw the words, “Cavanagh Tech,” underneath the number. He answered and held it up to his ear. “Hello?” He paused, blinked, and then said, “Um … okay.”

  “What is it?” Jamal asked, edging closer.

  Augustus stared straight ahead. “They asked me to hold for Mr. Edward Cavanagh.”

  I stared at him. “He’s making you wait on hold before your climactic conversation? What a dick.”

  “The hold music is …” Augustus frowned. “I think it’s … ‘Black Horse and Cherry Tree.’ Damn! It is.”

  “If this doesn’t prove he’s the villain, I don’t know what will,” I said, looking at Jamal. Jamal just nodded.

  “Hold on,” Augustus said and pushed the speaker phone button, holding it out in the middle of all three of us. The song played, nearly causing me to grind my teeth.

  “Hello, Augustus,” came a voice as the song blissfully clicked off. “It’s Edward Cavanagh.”

  “Yeah, I … heard your secretary or whatever announce that,” Augustus said, meeting my eyes. “What can I do for you, sir?” I couldn’t tell if Augustus was just playing it cool or if he was really that polite.

  “I feel like we need to have a face to face,” Cavanagh said. His voice sounded exactly like it did on TV—smooth, youthful, exuberant, with some real energy coming off it. It would have been infectious if I hadn’t known he was up to his neck in testing some nasty stuff on human beings and then disposing of their bodies.

  “Uh … what for?” Augustus asked.

  Cavanagh chuckled. It didn’t sound like an evil laugh, which meant he clearly needed to practice. “I think we can just leave that aside for now, can’t we?”

  “Not sure what you mean,” Augustus said. He wasn’t a good actor.

  Cavanagh sighed. “You’re a smart guy, Augustus. Do we really need to play games?”

  “Maybe I’m just giving you a little room to deny,” Augustus said. “We are on an open line, after all.”

  “We are indeed,” Cavanagh said. “But no one’s listening, and I doubt you’ve got a tape recorder handy, but … we should meet. You and me. Your friends, too, if they want to.”

  I felt my eyes get wide, and watched Augustus’s do the same. “Uh huh,” he said. If my brother had been here, he would have been screaming, “It’s a traaaaaaaaaaaaaap!” I restrained myself from doing it, but only barely. “That doesn’t sound like something I should do if I want to live a long and healthy life.”

  “You have no idea what I’ve done for you,” Cavanagh said, and there was a rustling on the other side of the phone. “How much I’ve tried to help you over the years. But there’s other things you don’t have, either. Like … any hope of escaping this state alive. The cops are after you, Augustus. They’re planning to shoot to kill after that thing at your house. They think you killed a lot of people, that you masterminded a metahuman terrorist attack.”

  “I’m sure they came to that conclusion totally organically,” Augustus said with a fair helping of sarcasm.

  “Doesn’t matter how it happened,” Cavanagh said. “What matters is how it’s going to finish. Personally, I’m hoping to see you walk out of this one. Look, I know you, man … you’re a hero. I want to see you become the hero Atlanta needs. We’re not anywhere near a point where that can’t happen. Nothing has occurred here that will keep you from being that guy, from having a long, exciting career doing what you want … getting what you want. I can help you clear your name. And I think you know I’ve got friends with pull, friends that can see this all cleared up. You can be the man, Augustus. Your friends can walk out of this—the cops can end up thinking you’re all heroes. This is not a problem. It’s an opportunity if you’re wise enough to come talk to me. We can come to an understanding.”

  Augustus looked at me and mouthed the words, “You can’t be serious.” But he didn’t say that out loud. “That certainly seems like a better alternative than getting shot like a dog in the streets …”

  “No one wants to see that happen,” Cavanagh said, and damn, he was smooth. “No one. Everyone I’ve talked to about you knows that you’re a bright young man who’ll make the right choice. Come talk to me. Let’s straighten this out.”

  “Just me?” Augustus asked. “By myself?”

  “Of course not,” Cavanagh said. “You can bring your friends, too. We should all talk.”

  Augustus cringed. “Where were you thinking?” He kept the cringe out of his voice, though.

  “I’ve got a facility,” Cavanagh said. “It’s not too far from you. I suspect you know where it is.” Augustus looked to Jamal, who nodded before Cavanagh continued. “Come on down, we’ll meet in person. I think we have a lot to talk ab
out.”

  “How can I be sure you’ll be there?” Augustus asked.

  “I’ll be there,” Cavanagh said. “One hour. Look forward to seeing you.” He hung up without another word.

  Augustus fiddled with the phone, making sure it was hung up before he spoke. “That dude is going to try and bushwhack the hell out of us, isn’t he?”

  I thought about it for a minute. “It’s totally possible he’s decided he’d rather buy you off, at least for now. You did sort of go through his massive meta army, which—remind me to ask him how managed to get that many of them in one place. That’s pretty much unheard of these days.”

  “So we’re going?” Augustus asked.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I said.

  “You realize he’s going to stack it all against us,” Augustus said.

  “Damned right,” Jamal said. “He’s not going to be there, but what he’ll have waiting for us is going to come at us hard.”

  Augustus looked pensive. “You think he was lying about the cops being after us?”

  I pulled up my phone and loaded my news app. Right at the top of the page was a grainy picture of Augustus. “Nope,” I said, and showed him.

  “How’d you get out without a mention?” he asked, frowning at my screen.

  “Clean living, I guess,” I said then smirked. “They must not have seen me enter the fray through the smoke.”

  “How are we going to do this?” Augustus asked.

  “Like heroes,” I said, looking at Jamal, who did not meet my eyes. “You up for that?”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Jamal said. “But no promises. Some fool comes at me hard, I’m not going to hold back the lightning.”

  “No holding back,” Augustus agreed. “But that’s not what makes a hero. Not when you’re outgunned like this.”

  “No,” I agreed. “But if we get Cavanagh or Weldon alone, we spare their lives and find a way to make them twist for this.”

  “You can … count me in on this,” Taneshia said. I hadn’t even noticed her get to her feet. She had her back to us, and her wound was almost entirely gone.