Alpha Adventures: First Three Novels

by K. T. Tomb

  “I think you’re right, Adam,” Travis said. “This guy has more ambition than we gave him credit for.”

  They made notes on the sites and search histories on all the computers.

  “I gotta say,” Adam said, “he’s gonna be in a world of entrepreneurial hurt if this is the best he can do security-wise.”

  Travis chuckled at his friend’s joke as he searched a number of the filing cabinets. One of the drawers wouldn’t open. He tried another of the doors, that that wouldn’t open, either. On more careful inspection, Travis noted that the cabinet was not a cabinet at all—the grooves for the doors had all been cut in a very clever façade. “Adam, come here,” Travis whispered excitedly. “We gotta move this.”

  The two lifted the fake filing cabinet out of the way, and discovered a safe. It was about four feet high by two feet across, and it was very new.

  “What the hell,” Adam breathed out. “This could be it. I thought he was clean for sure.”

  “Think about it,” Travis said. “The income from the sale of that crystal collection would annihilate whatever debt he has, and have more than enough left over to fund his new business.”

  “You’re right,” Adam said. “I just never figured this guy as that type of person.”

  “Yeah, but then we also didn’t have him pegged as the type to go through mountains of old newspapers and spend what must be a considerable amount of time trying to plan a world-wide media coup.”

  “Fair enough,” Adam replied while plugging in his safe decoder. “Here’s where we see if this shit was worth the money I dropped on it,” he mumbled to himself. It was still loud enough for Travis to overhear though.

  Finally, all the numbers on the decoder matched up, and the light on the safe went from red to green. They looked at each other, opened the door and were sadly disappointed. The safe was full of old photographs, photo albums, a full Belgian World War Two military uniform, and a number of militaristic looking medals.

  “What the FUCK?” Travis swore.

  “It’s basically a shrine,” Adam said in a very puzzled voice. “I guess family affection runs deeper than we thought.”

  They took pictures, and headed back toward the window they had come through. Just as Adam was outside the house, Travis froze. He absolutely heard voices that time. He waved Adam back inside, motioning for him to be quiet, and listen. Adam heard it too. There were definitely other people in the house, and they were awake.

  “Let’s go,” Adam breathed to Travis, but Travis shook his head no. He pointed straight down, indicating that the noise was coming from the basement. Adam adamantly shook his head no, but Travis was already making his way toward the stairs that lead down into the basement.

  They were at the top of the stairs, making their way down when the voices began to grow louder. Travis knew they were on the right track. Adam could hear his heart pounding in his ears. They descended the stairs slowly, allowing their eyes to focus in the odd lighting that emanated from the fluorescent and faux-sunlight bulbs.

  There were plants everywhere; tall, slender, bushy plants. The scent of fertilizer, soil and water were heavy in the air, and the humidity was almost unbearable. Travis got far enough down the steps, to clearly see three men with their backs to him. They were trimming what looked like leafy bunches off the plants. He immediately connected the dots and motioned for Adam to go back up the stairs.

  “We’ll just pretend we didn’t see that,” he said chuckling. “Let’s get out of here.”

  They made their way back toward the servant’s kitchen and in no time, Adam was out the window and waiting for Travis. Travis appeared briefly in the open window, and was suddenly pulled back into the house. Lights came on all over. The man towering over Travis must have been six-foot-six, weighing a shocking three hundred pounds and he was already in mid-swing at Travis’ unprotected head. Travis moved quickly and the man’s fist crashed into the floor next to his head. He rolled and delivered a powerful kick to the man’s solar plexus. The air audibly whooshed out of his lungs and Travis finished him with a hard, quick punch to the side of the head. The man crumpled, and Travis got up. The giant must have come from somewhere else, because the three men from the basement were now in the small room too. Adam had miraculously reappeared at Travis’ side.

  The three launched themselves at Adam and Travis, and the two knew that they were about to be entangled in a battle for their lives. Travis paused a moment and then tossed his phone through the open window. Before Adam could ask him why, the trio of pot growers was on them. Fists and kicks rained down on the Adventurers. Travis managed to break through the pack, striking two of the men in the midsection while Adam was busy trying to hold his own with the smallest of the three thugs and was barely holding on. Travis grabbed hold of an old cast iron pan and hurled it violently at Adam’s assailant. That drew the attention of all three and he used the distraction to turn and run into the main room, where the two corpse-like individuals were slowly re-animating like something out of a two-bit horror film.

  Travis was busy trying to hold off two attackers. He managed to send one down with a kick to the head, but the second was far too fast for him. He caught Travis’ leg and drove him straight back into an old writing desk. The blow was excruciating. The desk did not even shift from its place. Travis did his best to catch his breath, but his attacker was raining blow after blow on his head and ribs. Every time Travis tried to breathe another fist would hammer his ribs and it was all he could do to keep up a steady defense.

  Meanwhile, the man sporting the cast iron skillet imprint on his forehead stumbled into the room. Adam flew at him and delivered a kick to the jaw, laying him out cold, then turning to run in the direction of the old servant’s kitchen. Travis was briefly relieved when the man attacking him stopped and turned to pursue Adam. He caught his breath and then ran after the man, catching up to him in the next room just as the guy was putting Adam into a strangle hold in an attempt to subdue him. Travis hit the man in the armpit with three rapid-fire punches, causing the man’s grip to loosen enough for Adam to break free. In the same instant, Travis wrapped his arms around the man’s neck and began flexing his bicep against the man’s jugular vein, sinking in his choke-hold just like he had been taught. Adam was stunned, and did not know what to do. Just as the man was going down, Travis felt a searing pain in the back of his head, felt hot blood run into his eyes. As the world went dark around him he noticed two things simultaneously—Adam scrambling out the window and shards of ceramics all around him.

  Well, at least it wasn’t the crystal, he thought, as he fell face-first onto the floor.

  Chapter Seven

  “Remind me again,” Savannah said to Thyri. “Why are we out here at this time of night?”

  “Because,” Thyri said, “we’re hoping to talk to someone without arousing suspicion. Look, the way I see it is, someone at this company must know something. We need to know what they know, without letting them think we’re onto them.”

  “Makes sense,” Savannah said, and started trying to find a radio station. “Ugh—the music here is terrible. All electro-trans bullshit.”

  She rummaged around in her bag and pulled out an iPhone cord that would connect to the stereo. She plugged it into her iPhone, pulled up her favorite playlist, and the sounds of country rock filled the car. She turned the volume up and began to sing along, losing herself for a couple of songs before she was brought back to reality by Thyri turning the music almost all the way down.

  “Look behind us,” she said tensely.

  “What?” Savannah said.

  “Damn, hang on a second.” Thyri slowed the car down. “There!” she exclaimed. “Did you see them?”

  “I don’t know—what was I looking for?” Savannah asked, alert now.

  “Every time we go around one of these curves, a pair of headlights pops up right behind us. I think we’re being followed.”

  “Damn,” Savannah said. “Do it again—I’ll watch closer
.”

  Thyri did—she slowed down as they approached an oncoming curve on a relatively straightaway. The suspect pair of headlights showed themselves for just an instant, and went dark.

  “Damn it. Not again,” Savannah said. “Do you think it’s Liebowitz?”

  “I don’t know who it could be,” Thyri said. “But whoever it is, is a great driver. I’ve turned the lights off and stopped abruptly a couple of times.”

  “We have to get rid of this guy,” Thyri said.

  They drove on, hoping they were wrong, but as they approached a particularly nasty curve in the road, a car appeared on the inside of the turn.

  “What the FUCK!” Thyri yelled. “What is he trying to do?”

  A black Audi A-5 slammed into the side of Thyri and Savannah’s car.

  “Thyri,” Savannah said, as calmly as she could, “he’s trying to push us off the cliff. How much longer until we’re there?”

  “Not long—the GPS says fifteen kilometers, but there’s a lot of these hills between here and there. Shit.”

  “Well,” Savannah said, “we’ve got to do something to get this joker off our ass.”

  “What do you propose?” Thyri asked, as the car slammed into them again. They fishtailed, and felt the wheels sliding, trying to gain traction on the gravel mountain road. “That was close,” she added under her breath.

  “Alright,” Savannah said, “next time he tries something, hit the brakes, hard. I want to see if we can get behind him.”

  “Behind him?” Thyri said. “Savannah, we can’t be playing chicken out here.”

  “You won’t be,” Savannah said. “Hit the brakes and get behind him—then he has to try to get behind us—if you stay far enough away from him, he won’t be able to brake- check you.”

  “Ok, but what about if he stops, and parks his car across the road?” Thyri argued.

  “Drive through it,” Savannah stated matter-of-factly.

  “Drive through it?” Thyri said, desperately afraid of the glint of crazy in Savannah’s voice.

  “Yup. Drive through it. Worst thing that can happen is we push him off the cliff. Before he lets that happen, he’ll bail out and get stuck out here without a car. But if this guy is really after us, he won’t put himself in a position to be discovered.”

  The scene played out just like Savannah had said it would. They managed to get behind the assaulting driver and the maneuver took him so much by surprise that the car skidded and hit a patch of ice. It was not like it is in the movies—the car slid almost noiselessly off the side of the cliff, with just a few clunks and bangs as it rolled down the face of the hill. There was no fiery explosion. They stopped at the side of the road and Savannah looked out the window as the car came to a rest. She could not see the driver anywhere in the darkness so she indicated to Thyri to keep driving. The rest of the drive passed in blissful peace, and the women soon pulled into a well-lit parking lot crammed full of security trucks.

  A fair bit of hair fluffing and lipstick applying went on before they stepped from the car and walked through the front doors. Savannah and Thyri put on their bombshell tag-team attitude and walked right past the dumbfounded, googley-eyed male receptionist and right into the office door that said “Manager.”

  Thyri paused and offered him a cheeky wink for good measure. She smiled seductively as he gave her the same drooling look he had given Savannah, before she stepped through the door in pursuit of her friend.

  She caught up with Savannah who was engaged in an outrageously flirtatious interrogation of the manager on duty. She was putting a hand lightly in all the right places, and the man was becoming barely conscious of his surroundings. Savannah introduced herself, and then Thyri as her boss. Thyri engaged the manager in a more businesslike manner, throwing him even more off of his game, purporting that she needed to transport a variety of sensitive goods. While they chatted, Savannah slipped out and headed straight to the file room. She located it, and immediately went for the log book.

  The first thing she noticed was the names of the drivers the night the vases went missing.

  Faber, she thought to herself. Where have I heard that name before?

  She took the page from the ring binder and slipped it into her bag, then went back into the office where Thyri had the manager on the ropes.

  “Yes, I know you have a sterling reputation,” she said in a fake voice of uncertainty. “But those vases were worth a fortune. A single one was more than the net worth of this whole company and yet, they’re all missing. I know that what I need to move may not be as interesting as those vases, but I have to be certain that my client’s property will remain theirs.”

  She tactfully paused to let the insinuation sink in.

  “Not to mention,” she then added, “whoever took them knew the exact route those drivers would take and the time that the vases would be moved. They must have had some good information.”

  “Listen,” the manager said, finally finding a shred of his backbone, “all the drivers here are seasoned vets. Simon and Franz were two of my absolute best. For another thing, Franz drives personally for Mrs. Rodange as well when he’s not working here and finally, they’re both still missing. That should give you a clue that this wasn’t the fault of my company, or my drivers.”

  “Very well,” Thyri said. “I’ll take you at your word on that. What do you think happened to the vases then?”

  Savannah admired how quickly Thyri was able to negotiate the conversation from business to personal. The manager leaned back in his chair and scratched his jawline.

  “Well,” he said after a moment, “those families have been after each other for a while. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had spies in just about every business around that was ever patronized by any of the three.”

  “Thank you for your time and your honest opinion,” Savannah said, in her warmest, most inviting voice yet. “We’ll be in touch if we decide to give your company the contract.”

  They went back out to the car and got in. As she fired up the engine, Thyri turned to her co-conspirator and said, “Dead ends everywhere, Savannah. I hope the boys are having better luck than we are.”

  Chapter Eight

  Travis was slow to come around, but eventually the room came into focus in front of him, sliding back and forth before his eyes a few times before it finally settled. He had a moment of panic when he realized his hands were bound tightly behind his back and his feet to the legs of the chair he was in. A second wave of panic washed over him, as he realized he was sitting in almost complete darkness.

  Someone wanted to make extra sure of me, he thought groggily.

  “Oh good—you’re awake,” a familiar voice said in his ear.

  “Adam?” he asked, speaking into the darkness. “What the hell, man? I saw you get out of here.”

  “Yeah, I was about at the car, but apparently they’re smarter than they look. They had somebody down there waiting. Thumped me a good one, and brought me back up here.”

  “Fuck,” Travis swore.

  A myriad of thoughts flashed through his mind, the most recurrent one was that he was going to die. They had stumbled upon a marijuana grow operation and he was convinced that they would end up as fertilizer for the next batch of pot plants.

  A door opened ominously somewhere, and they heard footsteps approaching; one methodical thud after another. The lights came on suddenly, and both men squinted through their momentary blindness.

  “I should have known you guys would come back.” Lucas Gaston’s oily voice permeated the room like a bad smell. “I really thought you guys would give up. Guess I was wrong, huh? Well, at least Rodange hired people with brains.”

  Travis immediately noticed something was wrong—all the plants were gone. All the fake sunlight lamps had been moved. Gaston noticed him looking around.

  “Yeah, we move pretty fast. And in case you were wondering, this whole room was lined with butcher-grade plastic. That means there isn’t any residue in here
to be found. We’re running air purifiers now, and they’ll be burned later. In the meantime, if anybody else comes snooping around, we’ll tell them we had a mold issue.”

  He paused dramatically to pace the room a little bit and Travis smiled as he thought how much he looked like one of those TV villains who over-explained their genius plans… just before they got caught.

  Who would be doing the catching this time? Who would be coming to the rescue? Usually that was his job, which was why he kept getting himself shot! And what happened to Gaston’s accent, anyway?

  “Ah, don’t speak just yet,” Gaston directed Travis. “I’m going to make you an offer; work for me and you get out of here. Go out and finish Rodange’s job, find those vases and bring them back to me. All you have to do is nod if you will.”

  Neither Adam nor Travis agreed. It was not in their blood to betray somebody whom they had already agreed to work for.

  “I didn’t think so, but I had to try,” Gaston said, producing a very sharp looking knife.

  Travis winced. He thought that, compared to being minced up with a knife, he would prefer a bullet.

  “Second option, then,” Gaston said mildly, reaching down and slicing through Travis’ bonds on his wrists, “is for me to let you go, once I get reassurance from Rodange that when you find the vases, you will give the Gaston piece to me. And by reassurance, I mean a written letter from her giving ownership of the clear crystal vase back to me and my family.”

  Adam looked at Travis, and gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

  “Fine,” Travis said, rubbing the blood back into his wrists. “Give me a phone. I’ll call her and make the arrangements.”

  “Sure thing,” Gaston said, and handed Travis back his own phone. Travis unlocked it and skimmed through the photos of everything they had photographed.