“He was waiting for the sun to settle against the horizon. Clear shot for him, and less chance you’d see him. Sounds like he planned a trap and you walked into it.”
“Dash shot me when I wasn’t quite to the barn. I thought I knew the direction the sound came from, so I came around the west side with my gun raised...”
“And nearly shot me.” Ben raised his hands in surrender.
“No offense.”
“None taken.”
She shook her head. “Why was he out here? He couldn’t just sit around hoping I’d show. There has to be another reason. What’s past your property?”
“Nothing. More farms.” He snapped his fingers. “But the church district line isn’t far...just two places down.”
“All right. So maybe he knows that we know he’s infiltrated one of the local groups. He’s walking a line between the two...”
“Which he only has to do for another...” Ben checked his watch. “Twenty hours.”
“Right.” She stood and dusted off her hands.
“Let’s go see your bishop.”
NORA HAD AN IRRATIONAL urge to get out of the buggy and jog...surely it would be faster.
Ben didn’t seem at all disturbed by their pace— or lack of pace.
She felt as if she’d landed on another planet. She understood that she was completely out of her element, which was no doubt exactly what Dash had wanted. Sometime over the last year, this had become personal between them.
Nora’s grandparents had been farmers, but she hadn’t been to Texas since she was a young girl. The place had been sold long ago. She had fuzzy memories of petting goats and once riding on an old sway-backed horse. That was all so long ago, but deep down those memories were precious. They reminded her what she was fighting for. They reminded her that the people she protected were real people with farms and goats and sway-backed horses, with family and friends.
Perhaps her grandfather was why she’d recognized Ben for what he was—a farmer. Ben’s hands looked like her grandfather’s. She could still remember the feel of her small hand in his—how rough and large and comforting it had been. Those memories came from so long ago she felt like they belonged to a different person.
The last ten years had been training and missions and more training to try and keep up with the terrorists who were winning the race as far as technology. Always the agency was one step behind, and the cybercrimes were perpetrated faster than the agency could keep up.
The entire grid was vulnerable, but no one seemed to realize that. It was as if the general population wasn’t able to process what the grid going down would mean. People didn’t understand that water and traffic control and 9-1-1 calls all depended on electricity. The great majority of people only knew that things worked, and they expected things to continue to work.
Which was part of the reason the few cyber- attacks that had occurred had gone unreported. No one wanted to spook the public.
In Nora’s opinion, people needed to be spooked. They needed to wake up.
Ben finally directed the horse down a dirt lane that ended at a sprawling one-story house. Instead of pulling up to it, he turned down a secondary lane and stopped in front of a small bungalow-type house. “Atlee’s son lives in the big house with his children... ten last time I counted. Atlee lives in the Dawdi Haus.”
The old guy must have been up and awake because he opened the front door before Ben had set the brake and hopped out of the buggy.
Twenty minutes later she shook her head in disbelief. She’d expected this to be difficult. The old guy wouldn’t believe her, or he wouldn’t understand the urgency of the situation. Maybe he’d have a touch of dementia. Possibly he’d be alarmed by what she said.
But Atlee did none of the things she’d expected. He listened, took her at her word, and when she was finished providing what few details she felt like she could share, he’d asked how he could help.
“We need to find Dash. It can’t be that hard. He would have appeared within the last ten to fourteen days.”
“Unless he laid the groundwork beforehand.” “What do you mean?”
“He could have been working on this plan for years.” Atlee’s hair was whiter than unpicked cotton. His beard reached to his shirt, and his skin was more wrinkled than a well-used map. But his eyes were clear and blue. “Maybe this man you’re seeking pretended to have a relative that knew someone here. Happens all the time. Young man shows up on the bus, says he knows someone who knows someone. We have no reason not to trust him. Who would want to pretend to be Amish?”
Nora glanced at Ben who was nodding in agreement.
“All right, but even if he’s visited here before, he hasn’t been living here. We know that because we’ve been able to chase his digital footprint to Barcelona and London and even the Cayman Islands.”
“And you’re sure he was there in person, not just his...electronics?” Ben folded his arms on the table and studied them both. “If you’re sure, then it’s someone who has reappeared in our community in the last two weeks.”
“Exactly.”
Atlee craned his neck back and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. He wore small spectacles, and of course the suspenders and white shirt. Apparently there were rules about dress as well as everything else. Nora couldn’t imagine such a life; but then again, who was she to call someone out on clothing choices? She wore black and black. It was simpler.
“Not in our community,” Atlee said. “There’s three, maybe four young men who have been in and out, but I was present at their birth. I can assure you that each one is authentically Amish.”
“What about the neighboring districts?” Ben asked.
“That is a possibility. I’ll have to check with the other bishops, and that’s best done in person.”
Nora had explained that the countdown clock had started. Every minute that passed, they were one minute closer to disaster.
“I’ll set out before daybreak,” he assured her. “We’re all early risers.”
They were in the buggy and on their way back to Ben’s when her cell phone went off. She pulled it out and stared at the screen in disbelief. “We need to get to the auction grounds, and we need to hurry.”
Chapter 4
NORA KNELT BESIDE THE body of her partner. He’d been shot in the back at close range. At least he hadn’t suffered—the caliber of the slug indicated he’d died instantly.
The local police had found him, and the agency caught wind of it on the police scanners. They’d taken over before the ME could arrive. A helicopter’s blades whirred in the distance.
Ben stood behind her, waiting. She was learning that was his way—he didn’t talk just to hear his own voice. She appreciated that because she needed a moment to process what had happened. Tate...dead. She’d always assumed he would outlast her, even though he was older. He was that good. So what had happened?
Her mouth felt suddenly dry. Her heart raced as if she’d run to the crime scene, and a distinctive pain radiated from her chest.
The helicopter landed, and one of the agents walked up and said, “I’m sorry, but we need to take him now.”
She nodded as if she understood, but the anger building inside of her made it difficult to think clearly. She literally saw red at the edge of her vision. She would find Dash, and she would kill him. He was worse than an extortionist. He was a thug and a murderer, and he would pay for what he’d done.
“The director said to show you this.” The agent handed her an evidence bag holding a note typed on a standard lined index card.
Give me my money and no one else has to die.
“We found it pinned to the back of his jacket.” Nora brushed at the tears clouding her vision, then thrust the evidence bag back into his hand. “Anything else?”
“Only that it happened in the last hour, and apparently there were no witnesses...none we’ve found anyway. So far no leads as to who the perp is.”
“It’s Dash. There’s no doubt
about that.”
“The director agrees.” He handed her a black bag. “Change of clothes, medical supplies, additional ammo, and radios in case the cells stop working.”
“Is there any indication that will happen?” “We’re preparing for the worst.”
She felt her muscles tighten, as if her body were preparing for an altercation, and walked back to the buggy, Ben dogging her steps.
When they were again on the road, he said, “I’m sorry.”
“Tate was a good partner—the best kind of partner. We worked well together.”
Ben cleared his throat and kept his attention on the horse a few minutes. Finally he glanced at her and said, “I thought you were working this alone.”
“Not what I said...”
“But...”
“I said we were spread thin. Which is why I followed the signal and Tate looked for the bomb. Sometimes it happens like that. You have to split up to complete the mission.”
“And now?”
“Now we find Dash, and I kill him.”
BEN FINALLY GAVE UP and went to bed. He’d been up since before daybreak and it was now after midnight. Molly would need milking again at five.
Nora turned down the offer of his parents’ old room. “I’d only toss all night. Might as well stay up and try to figure out what I’ve missed.”
He left her there, sitting on the couch and staring into space. He thought he might toss and turn, but he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. To say it had been an unusual day for an Amish farmer was an understatement. He rose at his usual time and went out at five to tend to Molly. On his way through the living room, he saw that Nora had covered herself with the sheets he’d left out and curled into a ball on the couch. The room had cooled, and a light breeze stirred through the open windows.
When he came back from the barn she was in the bathroom so he made coffee, slapped half a dozen pieces of bacon in the pan, pulled out eggs and butter and bread and jam.
He felt more than heard her standing behind him, and when he turned and saw her he couldn’t help laughing.
“What?”
“Your clothes.”
“What’s wrong with them?”
“Nothing. It’s just...” He turned back toward the stove, tried to stifle the laughter, and failed miserably.
“I’ll have you know I’ve always been a big Notre Dame fan.”
“I was more referring to the green leprechaun on your shirt.”
She reached past him for the coffee pot. “I’m supposed to blend in. Notre Dame’s less than an hour from here. I guess someone at the agency thought this would work.”
“Oh, yeah, the college is fine. I was more referring to the glitter.”
“What? I’m not a glitter kind of girl?”
“How do you want your eggs?”
“And now you’re avoiding the question.”
If he was honest, the clothes had thrown him for a loop. She looked more like an Englisch youngie than a government agent. Ben was relieved that her mood had lifted from the night before, but he was no fool. Seeing her partner dead, the note from Dash, the hours marching by with no new leads...those things were all weighing on her.
Fifteen minutes later they sat down to eat.
Ben prayed silently, as he always did, thanking God for His provision, for His care.
When he looked up she was staring at him. “Why do you do that?”
“Pray?”
“Yeah. What’s the point?”
“To thank Him for all He’s given, for watching over us last night.”
“He didn’t watch over Tate very well.” She stabbed at the eggs as if they were to blame for her partner’s death. When she’d finished the meal, she pushed away the plate. “I don’t mean to mock you. I admire you, actually.”
“You do?”
“But here’s the thing. If there is a God, if He’s up there and knows everything, then why do you need to tell Him anything? Why do you need to pray?”
“Ah, ya. I remember asking my parents that one.”
“You did?”
“No one is born believing. We all have to work out our own faith, in our own way.”
She hopped up, refilled their mugs, then sat back down and studied him. “So what did your parents say, when you asked them?”
“Oh, they told me that most of the time they know what I’m thinking...that I prefer sweets to vegetables, that I’d like to play ball rather than do chores, that I loved them in spite of my sometimes sharp tone. But even though they knew those things, they still liked to hear it from me. Mamm said that part of being in a relationship with one another is communicating those needs and wants and fears and dreams, and that being in a relationship with Gotte is the same.”
“They sound like wise parents.”
“They were.”
She raised an eyebrow and waited.
“They died in a buggy accident. It’s been nearly a year.”
“I’m sorry.” He nodded.
“I guess I thought everyone was off on vacation. So you run this place alone?”
“I do...it’s probably too much for one person, but it’s the family farm so here I am.”
“Brothers and sisters?”
“Nope. All moved to Maine. I was the one that stayed behind.”
“Don’t most of you people...I mean, isn’t it normal...”
“For us to marry? Ya. I suppose it is.”
“So why haven’t you?”
“Guess I haven’t met the right person yet. Why haven’t you?”
“How do you know I’m not married?”
He must have looked alarmed because she started laughing. “I’m not, and for the same reason I guess.”
Which seemed to be all that needed to be said on the subject.
Her mood once again shifted. She reached for her gun, checked and holstered it. There was the woman who had nearly shot him ten hours ago. For reasons he couldn’t begin to guess, he felt on more solid ground with Nora the agent than with Nora the Notre Dame football fan.
“You never told me what agency you work for.”
“I didn’t?”
But instead of answering, she stood up, pushed in her chair, and said, “Thanks for the grub. I’m going to check the perimeter.”
He figured that meant he wasn’t going to get any more information from her, which was probably just as well. The less he knew the better. What she feared either would or wouldn’t happen tonight, and then she’d be gone, and he could get back to his life. Though as he stacked and carried the dishes to the sink he realized he wasn’t exactly sure what that life was or why he would be in any hurry to return to it.
Chapter 5
NORA CHECKED THE PERIMETER of the house and outbuildings because she needed something to do, not because she thought she’d find anything. She needed to be out of that kitchen, away from Benjamin Lapp.
So he’d cooked her breakfast.
So what if she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done that, or the last time anyone had looked at her the way he had. She stared down at the glittery green Notre Dame t-shirt she was wearing. Glitter? Seriously?
She walked to the top of the hill, finally got a single bar on her phone, and checked in with headquarters.
No news.
Nothing from Dash. No additional activity.
The hourly emails reminding them where to send the money, reminding them what would happen if they didn’t, continued. The director was holding firm. It wasn’t about the money. It was about stopping this tonight. Over twenty crews had been sent to crisis points like Shipshewana—all of them small towns, all outside the grid of highway cameras and security drones and facial recognition programs.
The irony was that in recent years there’d been a surge in cyber-insurance policies, mostly purchased by large metropolitan entities—Boston, Nashville, D.C., San Jose, Dallas, Denver, and San Diego. The policies cost as much as thirty million dollars and came with hefty annu
al premiums.
Some two-bit hacker would demand a five- figure ransom to not do some nefarious deed.
The insurance company would pay because it was the least expensive answer.
The city would collectively offer a sigh of relief— until the next threat came, when it all would be repeated again. That had been the dance for nearly five years now.
But Dash had taken it to an entirely different level.
He’d targeted the small towns, the towns that couldn’t and wouldn’t purchase such a policy. He’d dared to take on the agency.
Nora trudged back down to the house.
She was sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, cleaning her gun, when Ben walked out.
“Do you have a plan?”
“Yes.” She tried not to take offense to the question. “The first thing I need is for you to take me to a car rental place.”
“We don’t have one.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean Shipshe’s too small. The closest car rental place is in South Bend, and I can’t go that far in a buggy. In general we only use horses to travel a few miles.”
“How do you get around if you need to go farther than a few miles?”
“We hire Englisch drivers. I could walk to the phone shack and call one for you.”
She stared at him in disbelief for a moment, but finally shook her head.
“Forget it. Can you take me to the market downtown?”
“Ya. Sure.”
When they were nearly to town, she cleared her throat. “Look. You’ve been a lot of help, but just drop me off.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because this is my job. It isn’t yours.”
“I get that, but...well, it seems we’re in this together.”
“How do you figure?”
“You lost a partner last night.”
“Are you offering to step up?”
“Sure. Why not? We’re already off to a better start today than yesterday. You haven’t threatened to shoot me once.”
“Give it time.”
“See? We get along swell, and besides...if I’m with you, and if Dash is looking for you, I might be able to pick him out of a crowd—like one of those games. You know the ones. What doesn’t belong here?”
Fading Into the Night Page 3
