Dead Man's Switch (14 page)

And moments after that, headlights from a dozen vehicles broke from the road a hundred yards away and headed toward the house.

This was it. King was on the run. A criminal now. Like his father.

He felt Mack's hand on his shoulder. King hadn't realized he'd slowed down to watch what was happening behind him.

“Faster,” Mack said. “They'll come in with onboard thermal sensors next, and the tree cover here isn't deep enough.”

A person can't outrun thermal sensors, King thought. They were done.

But he followed Mack.

At the edge of the trees, Mack pulled out a small flashlight. He'd taped most of the lens so that only a pinprick of light showed.

“Nearly there,” Mack said.

Again, it struck King how prepared Mack had been, making sure the flashlight gave as little exposure as possible.

Even so, he was startled and amazed about 20 yards later when Mack stopped abruptly, kicked aside pine needles and dirt, and exposed a circular wooden lid with a handle.

Mack grunted as he pulled the lid aside. When he pointed the narrow beam of light downward, King saw that the interior was narrow at the top and wider below. A small ladder was propped against the edge, which had been reinforced with plywood to keep the soil from collapsing.

“Down,” Mack said.

King didn't hesitate. He grabbed the top of the ladder and reached the bottom almost immediately. Just as quickly, Mack's shoes were at the bottom rungs. But Mack didn't jump off the ladder. He slid the cover across the top.

Their heavy breath filled the small cavern.

“We'll be good here for a bit,” Mack said. “They'll use the chopper to sweep with searchlights because they'll think they're tracking you, not Patches. It'll take them, what, five minutes to find that stupid dog?”

“Sure,” King said. His mind was more on this cavern than Mack's conversation. Especially because Mack had been using the flashlight to spot various items that were stacked against the side. A couple of EIDs. Two rifles. Rope. Flares.

“After they find Patches and realize what we did to distract them, they'll go to thermal sensors from the chopper. Any luck and tonight would have had drizzle. Water droplets deflect the infrared and make it hard to spot anything more than a quarter mile away. But it's a clear night, so the range goes up to about two miles. But that can work for us too. They'll make a couple of passes with sensors, and once they don't find our thermals, they'll move on. We'll use that window of time to get to the wildlife refuge. Those trees are old growth. Thick canopies. Next to impossible to get any thermals from the choppers.”

“That's the forbidden zone,” King said. “They've got sensors everywhere at ground level.”

“Got it covered,” Mack said. His flashlight beam picked up a cell phone near the stack of equipment. Mack grabbed it and turned it on. “Once I send a text, we've got one hour with the system down. Someone owes me a huge favor, and I'm calling it in. And that's all we need. One hour.”

“Plus this stuff that will put down anyone who chases us,” King said, motioning at the electric pistols and the rifles.

“That's the part I wish I didn't have to explain,” Mack answered.

He sat and leaned back against the dirt wall. King did the same.

“It started about a year ago,” Mack said. “When they closed down the old prison and brought in a bunch of new guards for the SCC. Remember when I was permanently put on day shift? That's because it always happens at night.”

CHAPTER 29

“I'd come in some mornings,” Mack continued, “and something would be wrong with one of the prisoners in solitary. He'd have bruises or cuts. I'd ask Murdoch about it, and he'd tell me that the prisoner had acted up the night before and that one of the night guards had to settle him down.”

Mack paused. “Thing is, when I'd ask the prisoner what had happened, he couldn't tell me. Not
wouldn't
tell me, but
couldn't
. Like his mind was a blank.”

King could feel sweat trickling down his chest. His body was cooling down after the jog.

“Then one morning, I noticed spruce needles in one of the cells. Spruce. And what looked like spruce sap in his hair. Crazy, I told myself, but I decided not to say anything about it. The night crew guards, they were a different breed. Kept to themselves. Almost like they looked down on the day guards. I wasn't going to ask them, and I knew Murdoch didn't like my questions either. So I decided to find out without asking questions.”

Mack flashed his beam of light back at the equipment. It settled on what looked like a pair of binoculars.

“Night vision goggles. Best you can buy. I found a good spot outside the forbidden zone, away from the thermal sensors. I settled in one night and watched through the goggles. I was ready for a lot of nights of watching. If—and that was a big if to me—if a prisoner was getting outside at night, I had no way of knowing where he'd leave the building. I got lucky with my first guess. The loading docks.”

King imagined Mack tucked away on a hillside, patient for hours.

“First a chopper comes in. Some guy I've never seen before steps out. Civilian. Pulls out a rifle bag. Has two dogs with him. Murdoch is there to meet him. Ten minutes later, two of the night guards escort out Lassiter—one of the prisoners. You got to understand, Lassiter is a monster. Physical monster. Inhuman monster. Shaved head, neck as thick as an elephant's leg, tattoos across his face…he looks like Spiderman. Things he did to get put here…you wouldn't sleep for a week if I told you. Guards point Lassiter at the trees and let him go. Just like that. Then the warden, the guy with the dogs and the rifle, the guards, all of them, they just stand around. Half hour goes by. The warden shakes the guy's hand, and the guy heads into the trees with his two dogs.”

Mack went silent for a bit, as if right back on the hillside, watching. King had a guess but didn't want to say it.

Mack picked up the story again. “I stay. I mean, there's nowhere to go anyhow. I don't dare draw attention to myself. Four hours later, one of the night guards heads out in an ATV. Half hour after that, he gets back. The civilian on the passenger side, broken arm, only one dog with him. Lassiter's body is on the back of the ATV. I think Lassiter's dead.”

Mack's voice went cold. “It was a game. Hunt down the prisoner. Next morning, I'm at Lassiter's cell. He's cut up a bit, got some stitches on his right hand. Looks like a dog bit him. But he's groggy. I ask him how it's going, did he get a good night's sleep, and nothing registers in his eyes. It's like he doesn't know anything about what happened the night before.”

“They catch you catching them?” King asked. He didn't know whether to believe Mack. The part about hunting down prisoners, yeah, that was probably true. Blake Watt had been leading King up to this through cyberspace. But Mack was talking as if he were an outsider. King had seen the video surveillance footage and seen the money in Mack's bank account.

“I was careful,” Mack said in answer to King's question. “They didn't know I knew. I start keeping track. As far as I can tell, one prisoner a week gets outside. Every once in a while, a whole group. Six or seven.
I keep careful notes, and then when I think I've almost got enough to go to the FBI in Seattle, I get caught. I'm expecting Murdoch to do something crazy to protect his secret, but instead, he calls me into his office and calmly explains that if I breathe a word, I'll be in jail for ten years. Next thing I know, Ella's in a coma, and Murdoch tells me you're next if I don't do everything I'm told. That's when I had to start keeping secrets from you.”

“And keep me on the island.”

“They made it clear it wouldn't be good for your health.” Mack's voice broke. “I mean, look what happened to Blake. He found something, didn't he. And passed it on to you.”

“The computer in the old prison,” King said. “He had stuff on there.”

“Yeah, Murdoch was ready to make you disappear.” Mack shifted his body. “Where's the computer?”

“Safe,” King said, realizing he didn't fully trust Mack.

“We'll need it,” Mack said. “Just not now. First thing we need to do is get to the cliffs.”

“Then what?” King asked.

Mack explained.

And that's when King realized exactly how much planning Mack had done.

CHAPTER 30

Mack handed King one of the rifles. It weighed less than King expected.

“No bullets,” Mack said. “Darts. Let me show you how to use it.” Mack took King through the bolt action and showed him how to load the darts.

“No bullets?” King asked. “Darts don't have much range.”

“For starts, too much noise,” Mack answered. “Noise of a gunshot will bring a full force in on us. Besides, we don't want to kill anyone. We're not hunting, so we don't need a long-range shot. You don't need blood on your hands for the rest of your life. Or a murder-one felony.”

Something clicked for King. “The prisoner hunt. This is what they use, isn't it. Dart guns. Otherwise, we'd hear gunshots on the island at night when they turn the prisoner loose. Darts won't kill them either.”

It made sense. On this island, 103 of the most dangerous felons in North America. For a big-game hunter who was willing to pay tens of thousands of dollars to hunt a grizzly, how much more of a thrill to hunt a human, the deadliest predator of all.

“Yes, it's what they use,” Mack confirmed. His voice was flat. “Some of the hunters ask for a prisoner to be given a weapon. A knife maybe. Or a dart gun. Gives the hunters an even bigger thrill, hunting someone who is hunting them.”

King thought of the money hidden in his father's bank account. “They pay a lot, won't they.”

“Yeah.”

King thought of something else. “You said we're not hunting. That means then we have these weapons for defense.”

Mack's silence was enough of a confirmation.

“Who is going to hunt us?” King asked.

“Guards don't know the terrain as well as the prisoners,” Mack replied.

Some of the most dangerous men in America
. “So this will be life or death,” King said.

“Has been for a lot longer than you've known,” Mack answered.

Long, long silence.

“Dying scare you?” King asked.

“Not as much as it makes me sad. Too much in life to hold on to. You, mainly. Your mother and I...” Mack's voice grew quieter. “We had no idea what love really was until you were born. Didn't have any idea of what fear was either. And let me tell you, when you're scared of losing something, there are so many things to worry about. Dryer lint, for one.”

“Dryer lint?”

“You were maybe a year old. I'd be up two or three or four times a night, and I'd go into your room just to listen to you breathe when you were sleeping. Sweetest sound I can remember. I was watching you, and it hit me. What if there was a buildup of lint in the dryer and it caught on fire? What are the chances? A billion to one? But I couldn't get it out of my mind. It's three in the morning, and I'm in the laundry room, checking all the vents to make sure they were clear of lint. Ella woke up and asked what I was doing. When I told her, she didn't laugh. She started helping me check the vents.”

King smiled in the dark, but at the same time, it made him sad. Ella. Alone. And that thought terrified him now. Murdoch had threatened to do something to Ella. King and Mack had to find a way to stop it. They had to get past the thermal sensors and through the forbidden zone. They had to escape the island, find a way to make Ella safe.

“Kids don't know how much parents love them,” Mack continued, obviously unaware of the lurch of fear inside King. “Good thing, or you'd be paralyzed. What am I going to do, stop you at the door on your way to kindergarten and tell you that if anything happened to you and you didn't come back from school, I'd be a broken man for
the rest of my life? And believe me, a parent can come up with a thousand things to worry about, from earthquake to fire to a bus driver not paying attention. So then, what? Kneel down and look in your little five-year-old face and put my hands on your shoulders and tell you to be very, very careful because you've got my heart in your hands, and if you don't make it home, I'll be dead inside for the rest of my life, and I'll spend three hours a day sobbing in uncontrollable tears? Not a chance. You'd look at me and offer to sit on the couch and wrap yourself with pillows and never leave home, just so Daddy doesn't have to cry. And if you offered to sit on the couch and be safe, the biggest part of my heart would want to accept the offer. King, parents lay awake at night when their teenagers are at a party. We worry about a phone call from the police or a knock at the door that starts with ‘Sir, I'm sorry to tell you...' ”

This was more than his dad had spoken in one time to him than King could remember. And here King was, unable to escape another thought. About the money in his father's bank account and the surveillance video that showed Mack releasing a prisoner.