Their eyes locked, him searching, hers certain.
“How can you be sure?” he pressed.
“Because by then my ear comm screeched so loud I had to tear it out.”
Dan recognized that situation, but as he opened his mouth to pounce on it, she beat him to it.
“Before I could even comprehend that,” Alex insisted, “Mom talked again. Two words. ‘Get out.’ But she said it in such a way that I didn’t argue.”
Dan didn’t argue either. Instead, he wondered, “Where did that come from? Just behind your ear again?”
Alex’s haunted, intense expression communicated to her father that this, too, might be the first time she really faced it, so she forced herself to examine the incident.
“No. You’re going to think I’m crazy, or maybe just more crazy, but I tell you, if it came from anywhere, it felt like it was coming from my…”
Alex’s expression became confused again. Dan felt a pang in his heart. It so reminded him of when she was a tween, and would have silent arguments with herself before asking him about boys.
“From where, honey?” he asked. “You can tell me. Just speak the truth.”
Alex looked back at him with a whole new expression that seemed to say that he wouldn’t like it. In fact, the expression also said that not even she liked it.
“For the want of a better description,” she told him, “from my soul.”
That effectively killed the conversation. Dan blinked and leaned back. Alex looked sardonically apologetic, and even gave a seemingly instinctive little shrug. Dan shifted his body forward and gripped the Ford’s steering wheel in both hands. He stared out the windshield, then put the Fiesta in drive.
As they got back on the road, scrupulously obeying every traffic law while heading northwest around Lowell, Dan tried to process this new information. It wasn’t easy. Zeta hadn’t recruited him because he was a strategic mastermind. They’d hired him because he was the best blunt instrument around. Whatever they pointed at he could stop, take down, or destroy, and nothing would stop him until he did.
A long time ago he had admitted to himself that he loved it. Loved it so much, in fact, that he was willing to keep his agency secret from his wife and family. And when the secrets had gotten so big and consuming that they’d practically knocked on the front door, rather than face them and deal with them, he had somehow allowed both his daughter and wife to get involved.
He glanced out his peripheral vision at the passenger seat. Alex was curled up on the seat, like a resting cat. A powerful feeling of caring punched Dan in the gut as he watched her.
He had been proud of Alex as she’d made her way quickly through the Zeta ranks—proving herself to be more intuitive, versatile, adaptable, and forward-thinking than he was. He had been proud of Jenny for accepting him for who he was, supporting him completely, and even holding her own when danger encroached. He had been as proud as a seasoned, proven warrior could be.
Until it all had blown up in his face tonight. Literally.
“Kirby had a hologram.”
At first, Alex thought she had dreamed the words. But when she looked over at her father, he continued without taking his eyes off the road.
“Unlike you, Kirby answered my call,” he explained. “Told me that Zeta was under attack…”
“Well, duh,” Alex muttered.
“…and that I should come over immediately.”
He told her the details of his trespassing, and how he had scouted his employers’ homes at the start of his tenure with the organization. She seemed to approve.
“But he had a weird little rectangular mirror on his desk that seemed like some sort of alarm. It came on when I got near. It showed a little hologram of Kirby himself, repeatedly mouthing the Zeta disaster protocol. But apparently my presence didn’t set off any sort of sound component.”
Alex sat up and got her bearings in the darkness. On the basis of the dim lights of the quiet neighborhoods they were making their way through, Dan was still keeping to the back roads. Alex longed for her smartphone, which would have instantly showed her where they were. But if it could do that for her, it could do that to her …for anyone. She knew the disaster protocol as well as he did, maybe even better. She had taken the sniper rifle. She had left the smartphone.
“Hmmm,” she grunted, stretching a bit. “He invites you in, but wasn’t there to welcome you…”
“But our friends with the diamond-tipped, needle-thin missiles were.”
“Maybe the hologram wasn’t tripped by your presence. The mirror could have been two-way. Maybe he could see you through his smartphone and set off his hologram as a warning. Or even as an intro to a video link.” She looked at her father’s profile as he concentrated on the dark, winding, road. “You still have it by any chance?”
“Not anymore,” Dan admitted. He half-grinned, half-grimaced at the memory. “Much of it’s smashed in one of the needle boys’ faces.”
“Too bad.” Alex shrugged. “Who knows what we might’ve found between the mirror and the frame.”
“Yeah,” Dan agreed without rancor or even much regret. “That’s what I was thinking, too. For what it’s worth, the frame did seem a bit thicker than it needed to be. I figured there might have been a lens or bug or something like that tucked in the corners.”
Alex shifted around in the passenger seat until she could face her father. “You think Kirby was setting you up for the kill?” Dan looked back at his daughter, unable to contain all his surprise at her bluntness. “I know how you felt about him, Dad,” she continued. “Hell, I know how he felt about you, too.”
Dan snorted. “Big fan I bet, huh?” He checked the stars and street signs, then took a left on Macintosh Drive. “Paul Kirby was never protective of anyone or anything …except his own ass. But one thing he knew for sure. I’m not that easy to kill.” When Alex remained in silent thought, her father continued. “So maybe, after our illustrious number two conspires with our enemies to destroy us, he figures he better make triple sure about me—especially when I call him from out of the blue from a long-ago rendezvous spot.”
“So,” Alex interjected, “you’re also working from the idea that every Zeta operative’s home was attacked or destroyed. Every major Zeta agent, at least.”
“Except our dear darling Paul Kirby,” Dan agreed. “Why else wouldn’t anyone answer our distress calls?”
“And who else might be affected?” Alex mused. “Is it possible that they launched an attack on every Zeta agent in the world at the same time?”
Dan hated the thought of that, but couldn’t counter it. “We would have heard about it if they did it catch-as-catch-can,” he admitted. “If they were going to do it all, they’d have to do it all at once.”
Alex put her hand on her father’s shoulder. “You were right, Dad. Those Trans-Siberian train clowns didn’t have the vision or stones for something like this. Whoever—or whatever—hired Amina to take you out cherry-picked her for the job.”
“Yeah,” Dan growled, “then didn’t give her time to get seasoned back-up.”
The two fell silent as a single theory seemed to link their brains. At the end of their last mission, the idea was floated that an anti-Zeta was sowing trouble across the globe as fast as Zeta could nullify it. That trouble would be sown a lot easier if Zeta itself wasn’t around to stop them…
“Where the hell are we?”
Dan snapped out of his reverie as the last of the Dunlap Sanctuary and East Richardson Preserve passed by the Fiesta’s back window.
“Get ready to cross state lines,” Dan suggested as he turned right from Marsh Hill Road onto Bridge Street.
“Good thing I’m not a minor, old man,” Alex said as she peered into the night to see Auto Village and Holton Street Auto Body out the passenger window. They passed a paving contractor on the left, and t
hen they were in Pelham, New Hampshire.
The ski resorts, seacoast, Appalachian Trail, and Mount Washington Auto Road were still far away, as were Alex’s favorites—the New Hampshire Motor Speedway and Weirs Beach’s Motorcycle Rally. Instead, Alex examined such tourist highlights as First Chance Convenience, World Famous State Line Market, Tobacco Junction, Carlo Rose Cigar Bar, Bits & Pieces Quilt Shop, Discount Madness, Tattoo Fever, As-Cue-Rate Billiards, and Ace Discount Cigarettes.
“Time for a cheap smoke?” Alex asked sarcastically, but her father only turned onto Cardinal Drive.
“Keep your eyes on the prize,” Dan growled, glancing at the auto shops that also dotted Pulpit Rock Road.
He switched off the Fiesta’s headlights and turned into the driveway of the Logo Loc embroidery service building. He drove all the way through its surprisingly large parking area until he reached what looked like a small, abandoned radio station, complete with a relatively short, rusting, satellite tower nestled against and amongst a fairly thick wood separating it from Ratchets Auto Works and Offroad Supply.
Dan pulled behind a copse of trees and shrubs until the Ford was essentially masked from anyone else’s eyes. He then turned off the ignition and unclipped his seatbelt.
“What have you gotten me into, old man?” his daughter mused as she did the same.
He waited until they were both completely ready to exit the car before catching her eye with a tight, mirthless smile. “Welcome to my version of a disaster protocol hologram.”
Chapter 10
“Now this is a garage,” Alex breathed as they stood inside the windowless metal doorway of a rectangular blockhouse on the edge of the parking lot’s cul-de-sac.
This was a space that would have been a perfect fit for any effective chop-shop in the world. There was a single auto bay in the center, surrounded by equipment that served only one purpose: to do anything to a motor vehicle that was possible.
Alex marveled that it was the polar opposite to the usual automotive environment she saw her father in. His showroom, where he had spent all his time convincing his family he was a classic car dealer, was as bright as this was dingy, as clean as this was gritty, as open as this was claustrophobic, and as impressive as this was not. The showroom was for a car saint. This auto torture chamber was for a car zealot.
“Went looking for this place as soon as Zeta came looking for me,” Dan said as he made his way through the tools and parts that seemed to litter the floor, walls, and even ceiling in an explosion pattern, the less important stuff furthest from central ground zero.
“Not when the military and C.I.A. came sniffing?” Alex wondered, picking her way parallel to her father.
“Didn’t need it for them,” he explained. “They were known quantities. Zeta? Not so much.”
Zeta always seemed too good to be true. Ridiculously well financed. Absurdly altruistic. Willing to hire previous partners, not to mention daughters.
“When this shack went up for sale, I thought it was perfect,” Dan continued. “Tucked away in a secret grove, far enough away from home and HQ to keep secret, and right smack dab in the middle of car part central. Nothing was ever sent here, but everything could be wheeled in from the Devil’s Triangle of body shops nearby. I spent every spare moment getting ready for a day …like this.”
As they made their way closer to the center of the site, Alex felt herself becoming more excited. She imagined what she might discover beyond the piles of pipes, saws, drills, welders, and clamps. Visions of the sci-fi and spy movies she saw as a kid came dancing back into her brain. What would it be? An Aston Martin? Fireball XL-5? A time traveling DeLorean? The Batmobile?
Alex almost slapped herself. The strain, shock, and lack of sleep were obviously getting to her. Although she brought her brain back to reality, she didn’t completely quell her anticipation. Knowing her father, and knowing what he could do once he put his mind to it, she couldn’t help being a little excited.
Finally, they got within steps of a vehicle that was draped in a dark, paint-splattered tarp. It looked big enough to be the Mystery Machine from the Scooby Doo cartoons. Big enough to be the A-Team’s van. Alex felt herself holding her breath as her father unceremoniously pulled the cloth aside …to reveal a dull gray 2014 Honda CR-V.
“What?” Alex couldn’t help but blurt at the sight of the compact crossover sports utility van that was a favorite among soccer moms. “Not one of your cars?”
That stopped him. “What’s one of ‘my’ cars?”
“You know,” she urged. “A muscle car: a Camaro, another Mustang, even a Dodge Charger. Dodge…get it?”
“Exactly,” Dan replied with sad satisfaction. He wistfully walked around the car until he was facing his daughter from across the auto’s blunt snout. “Of course I wanted to use a muscle car. Of course I wanted to ‘dodge’ my enemies. But I had to choose the one vehicle that no one, friend or enemy, would ever expect me to be in, let alone drive.”
“Choose?” Alex echoed, still reeling from the reveal. “Choose for what?”
“For just such an occasion,” Dan said. “For a getaway car that no one would look twice at.”
Alex blamed her stress and exhaustion for her next reaction, which even she later admonished herself for. “Well, if that was what you were going for, why don’t we keep the Fiesta?”
Dan gave her a sympathetic look, obviously cutting her some slack, considering what they had both been through.
“Because,” he said, beginning to move around the vehicle like a hungover, jet-lagged salesman, “the Fiesta doesn’t have ballistic nylon and Kevlar steel plating, armored bumpers, three-inch polycarbonate-leaded one-way windows, and polymer, tubeless, tires that will still go a hundred miles an hour no matter how many bullets are pumped into them.”
Dan gave his daughter a look that asked for forgiveness, but her surprised yet delighted return look said “carry on with style.” So he did.
“I didn’t just modify the engine and drive-train,” he said, motioning at the hood. “I replaced it. All mechanical parts that could be switched out with electrical were. Fans, pumps, filters, piping, carburetor—all enhanced as high as they would go. Air intakes, quadrupled. Fuel system, upgraded.”
“Computer performance chips?” Alex blurted.
“What do you think?” her father retorted.
“Customized to optimum performance, natch.”
“Natch,” he echoed. “Dual exhaust system in, catalytic converter out.” Alex opened her mouth again, but Dan held up a hand. “And yes, true dual exhaust, with grates over the openings, not just split tailpipes. Unlike some people I wasn’t born two decades ago.”
Both father and daughter found themselves reveling in these details as a needed antidote to their growing dread and grief.
“Turbocharging, yes,” he continued, ticking them off on his fingers. “Forced air induction system, yes. Nitrous oxide injection system, of course. Drivetrain and suspension maxed.” He put his fists on his hips, and jutted his head forward. “Any other questions?”
Alex, being a Morgan, took a second to think about it, and with the first real smile she had in hours, shook her head. But again, her father surprised her.
“Good,” he said, “because we’re not done.” He waved her over to the passenger window before taking his place at the driver’s side. He pointed at the seats. “Not enough that the windows and car body are bullet proof. So are the seats, with both hand-stitched Kevlar and hand-made steel plates, which are also molded with ceramics and fiberglass to prevent head injuries in case of crashes.”
Alex marveled at the care he had taken, and raised her hands to signal her giving up.
“Still not done.” He pointed behind the front seats. Alex craned her neck to see that two thirds of the interior had been gutted and redesigned. Behind the front seats was a small padded section with a protec
tive covering that was clearly designed for someone to sleep comfortably—much like many long-haul truckers had, except on the vehicle’s floor. “Also outfitted with urinals,” Dan all but snapped. “Male and female, as well as guess what.”
Alex’s eyebrows rose and the edges of her grin twitched. “Number two?” she inquired sweetly.
“No shit,” he replied, all play-on-words intended, before motioning her to the rear hatch.
When he opened it, Alex saw nothing particularly special. But then, he reached over, grabbed an all-but-invisible lip just under the bottom of the window, and pulled downward. A large recessed area was revealed, displaying a SCAR Assault Rifle, a Mossberg 500 shotgun, a Glock 17, a Heckler & Koch P30, a VIPERTEK Heavy Duty Stun Gun, SABRE 3-in-1 Pepper Spray, and enough ammo and refills to finish any job.
“Explosives, drugs, first aid,” Dan said, thumbing the other wall. “That side. Don’t confuse the two.” Then he snapped the partition closed again and turned to his daughter.
At first she was speechless. But, as usual, that didn’t last long. “You did all this,” she asked. “Just in case?”
Dan exhaled. “No, not really. I did it because …” He couldn’t keep looking at her. He stared inside the enhanced, modified, bulletproofed SUV instead. “…because I was living a lie. Every time I came home, I’d tried to kid myself that we were just another American family. But then Jenny found out what I really did, and I kidded myself that the danger would never touch her. Then you saved my life with your first confirmed kill, and I kidded myself that we could work together without affecting our home life.”
Dan Morgan lowered his head. “So I escaped. Here. To this. Kidding myself that someday Jenny and me …” He had to stop, then swallow. “That Jenny and I would one day get into this thing, safe from all the world, and go everyplace she always wanted to go, and do all the things she always wanted to do…”
He stopped talking when Alex embraced him tighter than she ever had before. At first he was surprised, but then he embraced her back, remembering her as a baby, an adolescent, a tween, a teen, and now the amazing young woman she had become—little thanks to him.
War of Shadows Page 7
