Elliot scurried over and clicked the dead bolts into place.
Jon surveyed the room. It was empty, but the vault had been left open. The guard who had left; was he the one who had seen him? Had he intended to get someone to seal the vault? There was always something, some hidden variable that would make him fail—yet again. Why would this be any different from everything else in his life? Now his fate was as sealed as the vault to this metal tomb. There was no getting out of here alive, even if he changed his mind and decided to spare Elliot James, which was not going to happen. “Turn around!” he screamed.
“Why are you doing this?” said Elliot, in a fashion considerably less manly than Jon expected.
He ripped the cap and the mustache off. “Do you recognize me?”
Elliot’s head shook side to side in a quick vibration.
“I’m the one whose life you’ve been making a living hell!”
Elliot’s hands shot out. “I’m sorry. I- I don’t understand. I promise, whatever I’ve done, I’ll fix it!”
“You’ll fix it?!” He felt his face burn with rage. “What are you going to do, bring them back from the dead?”
Elliot cowered as Jon pushed in with the handgun.
“Do you think pulling some strings and getting my father out of jail is going to fix what you’ve done?”
Elliot backed against the steel door. “I swear! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Was that the way he was going to play it? Pretend innocence? Jon placed the cold barrel against Elliot’s cheek, and the man’s face quivered with fear. “Please,” he pleaded, “I- I don’t, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Did you think you could sit in your high office playing God and that no one could touch you?” He ground the gun in. “Well you were wrong, Elliot.” His anger leaked into his hand and his entire being waited expectantly for the explosion that would soon come. He hoped, in the dead vibration after the shock wave of sound had pushed its way through him, that he would have a moment of peace and satisfaction, as Elliot James’ lifeless body slid to the floor. He hoped to savor it, to stew in it, for as long as he could, before the authorities burned their way into the vault room.
Suddenly, something hit him hard on the side of the head, and he stumbled to the side. He caught his balance and swung around with the pistol raised high.
David Chance stood over him with a look of apology on his face.
There was only enough time to scream one word. “BACK!”
David lifted his hands in surrender. In one, he held a shoe.
Jon rubbed his head. “What are you doing here?! And did you just hit me with your shoe?”
“I had to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life.”
Jon stared at it, and a sense of familiarity hit him. It was the same scuffed shoe he had seen on the man in the booth next to his. That was where he had heard his voice before! They had both been in this room. This man was the one the voices had called his enemy. The realization caused him to climb to his feet, waving the gun back and forth between the two men. “You’re in this together, aren’t you?”
Elliot looked at David with a puzzled look.
Jon’s body shook. “Don’t even try that garbage on me!”
David locked his eyes on him, and the words that came next rattled Jon’s every bone and joint. “Am I even talking to Jon Blake?”
Why did he say that? Was it the tanning spray? No, it was something deeper. He must have sensed the controlling tendrils burrowing into his mind, masking themselves as his own thoughts. But instead of repulsion, Jon felt oddly protective of them. “Who else would I be?” he spat at David.
“Jon, listen to me. You’re being controlled.”
“Don’t listen to him, he’s trying to get inside your head,” a voice soothed.
The room began to dip and sway. Was it from the blow he took to the head? No, it was a ripple in his understanding. One question rose to the surface. Why had Canary told him he could trust David Chance while the voices called him his enemy?
“He is stalling,” whispered a female voice.
“Waiting for help to come.”
“There’s no time!”
“You can fight this, Jon,” urged David. “This isn’t who you are. You’re not a killer.”
“The only way out is to kill them.”
“Kill them both!”
Jon brought the gun to bear on David. “How do you know me?!”
“We’re the same, Jon.”
“I’m sorry, David,” he said, “But that’s where you’re wrong!” His finger tightened, but before the trigger gave way, a sound caught his attention. It was like a massive, continual explosion. The ground shuddered.
The terror on David’s face was like nothing he had ever seen before. “This is it!” David’s voice sounded hollow above the increasing noise.
Jon looked around, frantic. “Is it an earthquake?”
The ground rattled, and the walls trembled.
“RUN!” David screamed. He clutched Elliot by the arm and pulled as the entire room began to vibrate.
Jon lost his footing and fell to his knees. “What’s happening?!”
“Shoot them! They’re getting away!” a voice screamed.
He scrambled to his feet and ran after them. “STOP! Or I’ll shoot!” he screeched.
They kept running.
He lifted the gun but something hit him on the back, forcing him to the ground. The room started to dim as a wave of nausea overtook him. The last thing he saw was one black shoe and one stocking foot.
Then everything went black.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Karen Knight studied Agent Collins’ face. She wasn’t sure if the expression was shock or fear, but she had never seen anything phase the man. She would have thought him incapable of fear.
“Yes. I understand. We’ll get every available agent on it. Yes. Thank you, sir.” He pulled the phone from his ear and held it in his loose hand, his eyes vacant.
“Agent Collins? Are you all right?”
“We tracked the Porsche to a parking lot downtown. Traffic cameras confirm that David Chance entered the Norfolk Country Savings and Loan.”
“That’s good news, right?”
His expression was controlled. “There has been an incident.” He sat, silent.
“What? What happened? Is David all right?”
“An airliner just crashed into downtown Milford.” As he said the words, she realized she could hear the wail of every siren in the city.
The breath left her body.
“The airliner went through three buildings, one of them was the Savings and Loan. I’m sorry, Karen. The dispatcher doesn’t believe anyone could have survived that.”
“We don’t know he’s dead,” she said defiantly. “Maybe he got out before the blast.”
“It’s possible, but highly unlikely.”
Karen’s phone went off, and she pulled it out. The caller ID said Channel Seven. “I have to take this,” she said.
Collins looked over his shoulder, “Ken, get us near the blast area.”
“Karen?” said a voice in her ear. It was Brad’s camera man, Larry Turner.
“Yeah, Larry, I’m here.”
“Have you heard about the plane crash?”
“Yes. Does Coldfield want me to go with you to cover it?”
“Karen, it’s flight 304 to Los Angeles.”
“I’m sorry, what?” she said, trying to register why he had just said the flight number for the plane Brad was on. Slowly, her mind and her heart allowed the information to penetrate. The plane that had crashed wasn’t just any plane, it was his plane. It was Brad.
“That’s Brad’s flight, Karen.”
“No. No, there’s a mistake. This is about David. David’s in the bank. He’s...” Everything began to spin.
“Not David, Karen, Brad. Are you all right?”
She reached for the door handle. “I have
to get out of here.”
Collins gripped her arm. “The vehicle is moving.”
“I have to get out of here!” she said, desperately. How could he be dead? How could it be his plane? This wasn’t happening. This was not happening! There had to be a mistake. “I have to get out of here!” she screamed.
He called over his shoulder. “Ken, stop the car!”
The car slowed, and Karen burst out of the door. Traffic was bumper to bumper, and everyone on the street was staring in the same direction. She turned and found the object of their intense interest. A plume of smoke was coiling its way into the sky, and a dust cloud rolling between the buildings.
“Karen!” Agent Collins sounded miles away. “Get back in the car, Karen!”
She stared at the dark, black smoke, ignoring the honks of irritated drivers. It wasn’t possible. She could imagine him dying while covering a hurricane, or a conflict overseas, but a random plane crash?
She lifted her cellphone, cut the call with Larry, and speed-dialed Brad’s number.
HOONNK!
She looked at the car and its screaming driver—and moved to the side. It squelched past, only to join the crawl of endless traffic six yards in front of it.
“You’ve reached Brad Knight,” said the phone, “I’m not available at the moment, but your call is important to me. Leave a message.”
“Brad. This is Karen.” As she searched for the words to say, she felt the emotion surging up to overwhelm her. “I need you to call me.”
I need you. The words had a strange effect on her. She simply meant that she wanted him to call, urgently, but there was so much more to it. She had never needed anyone. A silent wall had been built long ago—an impenetrable shield that allowed her to be an objective journalist, to keep her emotions in check. But she had allowed one person in, and once a pathway to her heart had been made, there was no way to undo the damage. She needed him. She couldn’t live without him. How could she ever live without him?
Tears flooded her eyes as she pressed the phone harder against her ear. “I need you to call me, Brad. Do you hear me? You better call. And don’t even think about playing some kind of trick on me with Larry...” She sniffed. “...because I swear you won’t hear the end of it.” She smeared the tears down her hard cheek. “It’s too much for me to bear. Don’t do this to me. Call me.” She pressed the cancel button, drew in a deep breath, and let it out.
Collins stood silently with the door open.
She composed herself, wiped her face discreetly, and went back to the car.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
David felt for the collar of Jon’s shirt and pulled it up over his mouth to protect his lungs from the dense dust cloud that filled the safe. He turned to peer into the pitch dark where he thought Elliot was laying. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” said a voice. “Is the boy okay?”
He felt down both of Jon’s arms and found his hands. The gun wasn’t in either one. That was a relief. It must have fallen when he dragged him to safety. He put his fingers on Jon’s neck. There was a pulse. “Yeah. He’s alive anyway.”
“It’s David, right?”
“Yeah. And you’re Elliot?”
“Yes,” said the voice from the darkness.
“Do you have a phone, Elliot?”
“Yes. Right here,” he said with a cough. A dim light illuminated a thousand floating particles.
“Can you call for help, and let them know we’re down here?”
The light dimmed as he turned it to read the display. “No signal.”
“Okay,” said David, sucking air through his shirt. “How’s the battery on that thing?”
“I’ve been using it all day. It only has a fourth charge left.”
“Then we should turn it off and conserve the battery for when the cell towers come back online, that’s assuming it’s the towers and not the tons of brick and steel on top of us.”
Jon coughed and gasped. “What’s going on?” he shrieked.
David gripped his shoulder. “It’s okay, Jon. You’re okay. Just breathe through your shirt.”
“What- what happened?!”
“I don’t know. It sounded like a bomb.”
Jon coughed again and groaned in pain.
“I can’t see where you’re hurt. Is the pain bad?”
“Only when I cough,” said Jon. “What hit me?”
“I think a chunk of mortar from the ceiling.”
He coughed again. “Where’s Elliot?”
“Here with us.” He could feel Jon tighten up. “I don’t know what you think he did, but he didn’t do it. You’re being controlled, Jon.”
“What are you talking about?” he growled.
“The FBI is tracking cases of people who are being manipulated into doing horrible things because of some kind of mind control. Are you experiencing anything weird right now, like lost time or blackouts?”
The dead silence gave David his answer. There was something going on, and Jon didn’t want to talk about it. But the topic had to be breached before Jeckel turned back into Hyde. It was bad enough being buried alive without having to fend off a killer as well.
It was time to tell Jon about his conversation with Canary. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late. David cleared the dust from his throat. “Canary contacted me, Jon.”
Jon was quiet a moment. “What?”
“Just before I got to the bank. She contacted me.”
“That’s impossible.”
“It’s the truth, Jon. We spoke through some kind of video chat on your iPad. She wanted me to give you a message.”
“But- Wh- How did you get my iPad?! It’s locked in the car.”
“I had a key, Jon. Listen, I’m telling you the truth. Canary contacted me. She was trying to reach you, but said I could give you a message. She told me that you can’t trust Jakson.”
The darkness was still. No doubt Jon was trying to figure out whether or not he could believe what he was hearing.
“Do you know this man—Jakson?”
“She mentioned him,” he said cynically.
“Canary said she found out that Jakson was moving against her, but that she and her mother got out okay. She’s alive, Jon.”
“What are you talking about?” Jon said through gritted teeth. “Elliot was the one moving against her. He’s the one doing all this!”
“No, Jon. You’re being lied to.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” he groaned.
“Whatever is going on with you, you have to fight it. You’re being manipulated.”
“Canary and her mom are dead. They found two bodies in the fire. Elliot killed her.”
Elliot’s voice drifted across the blackness. “I could never do anything like that.”
Jon’s body tightened. “Shut up! Both of you shut up!”
David held a hand on Jon’s chest. “Think about it, Jon. Work it through in your head. There had to be times when you questioned what was going on, something that sticks out in your mind as odd, or inconsistent. See if you can unravel the lies.”
It was quiet for a long time, and finally he spoke. “Canary said I could trust you,” his voice quivered with emotion, “but they said you were the enemy.”
“Who said?”
“They said the security guards were chasing us down the stairs, but they never came. They were never there, were they?” His voice dripped hopelessness.
“Has someone been talking to you?”
“No. Stop it!” he said. “Shut up!”
David didn’t press.
“Get out of my head! I don’t want you here!”
Was he fighting them? Were they influencing him even now? He felt Jon’s hand grip his arm.
“When did you speak with her?” Jon whimpered. “How long ago was it?”
“Not long ago,” said David, stunned by the possibility that he was getting through. “It was just before I arrived here at the bank, maybe forty-five minutes ago.”
The darkness settled again, and in it he could hear Jon crying. He let him work through the emotion and hoped it was enough to break the connection to whatever was controlling him. After a long while Jon spoke. It was only two words, but it was enough to convey the reason for his tears. “She’s alive,” he said.
It all makes sense, thought David. Canary was a beautiful young girl, the same age as Jon. The enemy knew he would fall in love with her. And then they made him believe that Elliot James had killed her, so Jon would kill Elliot. Was Elliot somehow connected to Kathleen Peltz?
“Elliot? Do you know a Dr. Kathleen Peltz?” he spoke into the darkness.
“Yes. I’ve been a contributor to her AIDS research for years. Why?”
“Are you aware of a virus called X11?”
“No. What is it?”
“My guess is that it is what Jakson wants Kathleen Peltz to weaponize, and you are somehow a threat to that.”
“Why? Because I’m withdrawing my money?”
And there it was, the motive behind it all.
“How much do you donate?”
“The withdrawal of my funds will close the doors on that facility for good. Is that what this is all about?”
“Seems like it.”
“But—why send a boy to kill me? No offense, young man.”
That was the million-dollar question. Why would an organization powerful enough to gather resources for a dirty bomb not just kill him themselves? Why make a teenager do it?”
Jon’s voice sounded stronger as he moved in the dark. “So this was all to stop you from withdrawing your money?” He grunted, struggling to sit up. “What is this X11?”
“It’s a virus,” said David.
He growled from the dark.
“Are you okay?”
“They’re trying to speak, but they’re weaker now.”
“Who?”
“The voices. They’re on fire in my head.”
“Voices from who?”
“I don’t know, just voices.”
“And you’ve been listening to these voices?”
“They saved me from my father. I thought they were helping me—it doesn’t matter now. They got what they wanted.”
VOICES: Book 2 in the David Chance series (Suspense, Mystery, Thriller) Page 21
