by Jeff Olah
“Hello Mr. Goodwin, I don’t believe we had anything scheduled.”
Goodwin appeared tired. Dark circles outlined his already deep brown eyes. He had yet to shave, and his neatly pressed shirt was now shifted ever so slightly to the left.
“I need you on the sixtieth floor; things are getting out of control at Blackmore.”
“Yes, of course. What are we looking at?”
“Anton and Travis have Daniels at the outpost; however, he’s not cooperating.”
“Mr. Goodwin, we knew that it was probably not going to be easy—”
Goodwin ran his hand over the two-week salt-and-pepper growth overtaking his face and neck. “That’s not our only problem—he has guests.”
“Sir?”
“Another group showed up inside the gates. We don’t yet know who they are or how they found us, but nonetheless, we are going to have to deal with them as we did the others.”
Dalton knew exactly what he wanted and what that meant for whoever it was that found their way to Blackmore. He also knew what the answer to his next question would be, although he asked it anyway.
“How would you like it handled?”
“Let’s first find out who these people are; we may need them for leverage.”
This was a different Marcus Goodwin. For whatever reason, he was going against everything he said he believed. Deranged as it may have been, he had told Dalton on more than a few occasions that he “Never wanted or needed anything from anyone.” He had said that “If I can’t get it done on my own or pay someone to do it for me, then it must be impossible … and nothing is impossible.”
“I’ll cut into their video feed remotely, but as you know, there’s a chance they’ll see what we’re doing. If someone inside is sitting at a terminal and they know what to look for, we’ll be temporarily visible to them.”
Goodwin reached into his pocket and handed Dalton his phone back. He then turned and started toward the door. Reaching for the handle, he pulled it open and paused.
“Next time you want to take a nap and don’t want anyone sneaking up on you, all you have to do is lock this door … and Dalton?”
“Yes?”
“I’ll be expecting you within the hour.”
As the door closed, Dalton again checked his battery. Eighty-six percent. He tossed it along with the earbuds into the leather chair and moved across the suite to his desk. He reached for the ten-inch tablet sitting alongside a stack of hardcover novels and powered it up.
As the screen came to life, he moved quickly through the many video feeds from his own building. He rested on camera number eleven just as the elevator car reached the sixtieth floor. The doors opened, Marcus Goodwin stepped out into the hall, and then just as quickly, the doors came back together.
Taking control, Dalton called for elevator number three to return to the fifty-fourth floor. He pulled his chair around and now sat with the tablet in his lap. Moving through three screens of backlit icons, he keyed in the eighteen digit remote access code for Blackmore’s interior cameras and searched through Building One.
Moving from one area to the next, it appeared that Anton and the others had made quite a mess of the home that Goodwin built. Blackmore’s interior was still—for the most part—intact, although along with seven new unidentified occupants, more than two dozen Feeders remained locked away in various parts of the building.
He knew what came next. Although Goodwin’s demeanor had been a bit more sullen than normal, the next twenty-four hours would certainly bring him back to center. He thrived on conflict and ate adversity for lunch. The billionaire sociopath wouldn’t sleep until every inch of Blackmore’s facility was under his command, no matter the cost.
Dalton brought up the audio from Building One and sat back. He prayed that somehow those seven souls would find a safe passage away from Blackmore, and long before Goodwin and his men dropped out of the sky. He was hopeful, but not optimistic; he simply wanted out of this nightmare. And for now, he wanted nothing more than to be back on that beach with those three elderly fishermen.
154
Griffin held the mini-binoculars to his eyes and leaned in toward the driver’s window. With the rain beginning to taper off and the sun now making its way into the world, he was able to make out two individuals. The man in the hat and then further on, a silhouetted figure standing in the shadowy alcove just outside the doors to the grocery store.
“Someone fired a shot,” Helen said. “What’s going on?”
Griffin handed Frank the binoculars and grabbed his pistol. “I’m not sure.”
Now looking over the lot, Frank scanned the area end to end. Moving beyond the white sedan and the two men, he spotted a small grouping of four Feeders that had rounded the north side of the outdoor shopping center.
“Griff, the one near the car … is that who I think it is?”
Ben shouted from the back row. “Who?”
“Yeah,” Shannon said. “Who?”
Griffin was already leaning toward the door, his right hand resting on the handle. “That car from earlier tonight, the one we saw back on Sunset … it’s the same one that’s parked outside the store.”
“So,” Carly said, “what does that mean?”
“That’s also the same car from back in that little town in Utah.”
“The Mayor,” Ben said, “Mayor Gil?”
“Yeah, I recognized it earlier tonight … just don’t quite know what to make of it being all the way out here.”
Frank laid the binoculars on the dash, rubbed his eyes, and turned to face Griffin. “But that man, the one standing by the car, that’s not the man I saw back in Green Valley.”
“He’s got the hat,” Griffin said. “And he’s got that hideous white sedan, who else could it possibly be?”
“It’s not him Griffin, the mayor was more round and less tall than whoever that is. Maybe there’s more than one white sedan out there whose owner also wears a white Stetson. I mean—”
Griffin reached for the binoculars. “Hey Ben, how’s your vision?”
“Perfect why?”
He handed the binoculars back to the third row. “Okay, first tell me what state the sedan is from.”
Ben moved the binoculars up to his eyes, brought the parking lot into focus and found his target. He chuckled under his breath as he said, “Utah.”
“Okay buddy, this one may be a stretch, but can you read what the frame around the plate says?”
Still focused on the rear of the white sedan, Ben mouthed the words and then quickly pulled the binoculars away from his eyes. With a devious smile, he handed them back to the front and nodded. “It says Fenton’s Car Sales … Green Valley, Utah.”
“Okay,” Frank said, “but I guarantee that isn’t who you think it is.”
Griffin again reached for the handle, gripped the nine millimeter, and slowly pushed open the door. Under his breath, in almost a whisper, he said, “No one gets out, you got that Ben?”
“Yep.”
“I’ll swing wide and come up from behind the store. Again, no matter what happens, you all stay put.”
“Wait,” Carly said, “what are you doing, why go out there? I mean, this isn’t why we came here.”
Griffin nodded to Frank and then stepped out. “Ben …”
“Yes sir?”
“You get a good look at the second guy, the one further back by the doors?”
“I did.”
“Tell our friends why I’m going out there.”
“It’s Ethan.”
155
The man he remembered from the mountain, the one who now wore the Mayor’s Stetson and drove the Mayor’s white sedan, had started toward him. The man who also called himself Boone had again dropped his arm to his side, maintained eye contact and continued the one-sided conversation.
“Ethan you need to listen to what it is I’m telling you, it’s for your own good. And I’m only going to say this once … If you shoot me now, you’r
e never going to find your sister.”
Ethan moved his finger from the trigger, but kept his position. With the day’s first light slipping in over the horizon, he was able to see a second man seated on the passenger’s side. And although the man was partially hidden behind the rain splattered windshield, he had a pretty good idea of how all this happened.
As Boone came within fifteen feet and threatened to step into the alcove, Ethan moved his left hand from the rifle and held it out straight.
“That’s far enough.”
Boone nodded. “Okay, you’re cautious, I get that. And you know what, I don’t blame you. I really don’t. After what happened back there in Colorado, I don’t even know that I’d blame you if you shot me right here, right now. But it really does benefit you to keep me alive, at least listen to what it is I have to say.”
Ethan kept the end of the rifle trained on the man he probably should have already killed. “Yeah?”
“Well … I mean I really wouldn’t be much help to you if I was dead, you know? I wouldn’t be able to do much of anything except maybe twitch around on the floor and bleed out, you know kinda like your dad did.”
Ethan moved his left hand back to the weapon and his right index finger back over the trigger. He took two steps forward and breathed fire as he spoke. “What the hell did you just say?”
Boone didn’t appear the least bit nervous. “That’s good, real good. I was hoping there was some of that left in you. But Ethan, for now, you’re gonna need to channel that. We’ve got a long road ahead and I have a feeling it may come in handy.”
Ethan was spitting. “Speak now or I will blow the back of your head all over the mayor’s car. Whatever it is you know about my sister you’d better get to the point … and like real soon.”
Boone’s smile widened. “You really think—”
“And one more thing. You mention my father one more time and you may as well just shoot yourself in the head, because I can guarantee you won’t want to be conscious for what I do to what’s left of your corpse.”
Boone took a moment to turn back to the sedan, giving his passenger a thumbs up.
“You’re gonna have to cut me a little slack in that area, because we are going to have to discuss families … yours as well as mine. It’s not going to be pretty or nice, but it is going to happen. Trust me, it’s something we’re both going to have to get used to. And hey, you may not like me and I may not like you, but we do share some common interests.”
Ethan pulled his finger away from the trigger and again stared into the sedan. “Is that who I think it is?”
“That depends,” Boone said. “If you think that it’s Mayor Gil, then yes.”
“Okay, start at the beginning. Tell me what the hell is going on here. Why you’re here and why he’s here.”
“We’ll get into all of that, but first I need you to lower that rifle and have a seat on that wall. I need to know that you aren’t going to do anything stupid. Also, get the boy out here. There’s no reason to have him in there all alone, I’m sure this is probably pretty scary for him.”
“I don’t think so. Say whatever it is you think you need to say and then I’ll decide how the rest of this is going to play out for you.”
Boone rocked back on his heels and pointed at Ethan. “You’ve got to be the most stubborn SOB I’ve ever run across, and believe me I know some people. So, I’ll tell you what … how about I show you that I’m not all bad, whatta ya say?”
Ethan didn’t respond.
“Well then,” Boone said. “I’ll show you anyway.” The man in the mayor’s Stetson took two steps to the right and then pointed over his left shoulder. “That SUV look familiar?”
Ethan lowered the AK-47 and stepped out of the alcove. “What the hell?”
“Your friends, they’ve been following me around this city all night. I figured they would lead me to you, but it looks like it happened the other way around.”
“What the hell is going on?”
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but first why don’t you come on out here and wave them over … let’s all have a chat, how ‘bout it my man?”
Overwhelmed and confused, Ethan looked out past the lot and focused on his father’s vehicle. Whatever happened going forward, he was again responsible for the six individuals sitting two-hundred yards away. Whether they stayed parked along the west edge of Las Vegas Boulevard or pulled in alongside the Mayor’s sedan, he would answer for each and every one of them. There was nothing the man in the stolen Stetson or anyone else could do to change that.
“One request before we get started,” Ethan said. “If this goes sideways, not one of them gets hurt. Not the Mayor, not my friends, and definitely not the boy. Whatever differences we have, we work it out, you and me. No one else?”
“Agreed,” Boone said. “I’d shake on it, but I’m thinkin’ that may be overkill.”
“One last thing.” Ethan allowed the rifle to hang from its strap as he reached around to his lower back, pulled free a pistol, and quickly squeezed off a single round. The projectile exploded from the end of the weapon, raced through the thin morning air, and buried itself in the asphalt between the feet of the man wearing the Mayor’s Stetson.
“Just so you understand that I’m serious.”
Boone hadn’t moved, in fact he almost hadn’t reacted at all. He stared down at the blistered asphalt between his feet and then up at Ethan.
“I get it, you want to be in charge here. And I don’t necessarily have a problem with that, but we are going to have to build at least a small level of trust in one another if this is going to work.”
“If what is going to work.”
“All of this,” Boone said. “We have a common interest and are going to have to work together. So let’s get your friends over, have the kid come on outside, and we’ll get this show on the road.”
He didn’t like it, but so far Boone hadn’t given him a real reason to doubt him. He’d do anything to get back to Emma, and if there was even the slightest possibility that this man had information that would help, Ethan was willing to at least listen.
“Okay … but I need you to understand who I am, and what I’ll do if you step out of line.”
Boone nodded. “Trust me, I am fully aware of who you are. I saw the bodies you left behind in Colorado.”
Ethan didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. Instead, he looked out toward the street, to where his friends sat alongside the road, and waved them over.
156
James Dalton made the long trip from the fifty-fourth floor to the lobby and, tablet in hand, turned off the cameras. He cut everything but the lights in the elevator and waited as Nicholas Jefferson stepped out from behind the reception desk. The forty-five-year-old pilot had kept mostly to himself since returning to the building; however, today he was more than willing to speak with Dalton; in fact, he’d actually requested the meeting.
As Nicholas stayed along the wall, and in the shadows, he motioned toward the open elevator doors. Dalton nodded as he walked casually toward the building’s entrance and peering through the slatted security gates, took a quick look at the scene playing out in the crowded streets.
Under his breath and only to himself, he said, “There’s no way … just no way at all.”
Dalton closed his eyes for a moment, attempting to rid his mind of the image, then turned away from the entrance, and started back toward Nicholas. And although his meeting with Goodwin was less than thirty minutes off, he felt the need to give the man who would be piloting them back to Blackmore an opportunity to speak his mind without having to dilute his words.
“Nicholas … you been able to sleep?”
“Some, you?”
“I’ll be okay,” Dalton said. “I have a pretty good idea of what’s coming and have already made my peace with it.”
Nicholas leaned against the black marble that lined the walls outside the elevator and turned his gaze toward the ground. “Ye
ah, I mean—” Quickly cutting himself short, he looked over his left shoulder and into the elevator.
“We’re good here,” Dalton said. “It’s just you and I.”
“Okay.”
Dalton stepped closer and rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “So, what’s on your mind?”
“Well, this probably isn’t the best time for this, but … I’m not too sure I want to go through with this?”
“Go through with this?”
“Yeah, I don’t know. I almost just want to walk out into the middle of the street and end it.”
Dalton knew what Nicholas was going through. On more than one occasion, he’d even considered the same thing. If it hadn’t been for his recent nightmares, he’d have already opened the lobby doors and followed his friend out.
“You having an issue with what comes next?”
Nicholas nodded. “Flying him in there … I mean, you know what he’s going to do to those people.”
“Yeah,” Dalton said. “I understand, but there’s nothing we can do to change that … well, almost nothing.”
Nicholas turned away from the elevator, the left half of his face now washed in fluorescent light. He turned to Dalton and furrowed his brow. “Whatta mean?”
“Those people have no idea what’s coming, but there is something I may be able to do.” Dalton paused for a moment. “But the less you know about it the better.”
Nicholas looked out over the darkened lobby, almost willing himself to see out into the street. “Alright, but what about you and I … and the crew? How’s it going to play out for us?”
“If everything goes right,” Dalton said. “There won’t even be a confrontation.”
“You know that just making it out of the city and finding that place is going to be nearly impossible. But even if we do, what’s to say that Goodwin won’t sacrifice every single one of us just to get inside?”
Nicholas had a point. He was putting to words the thoughts that had been swimming around in Dalton’s head for the last several days.
