Ghost Moon (30 page)

It was a talent he had discovered years earlier—even before the first time he had changed from frightened teenager to wolf. On the way to school, he’d had to walk past a yard with a chain-linkfence. And inside the fence was a Doberman that scared all the kids. Everybody ran past that yard. But one day, when someone left the driveway gate open, the dog got out and cornereda little girl named Katie on the steps of the next house.

Jacob could have run. But he couldn’t leave the girl. The problem was, he didn’t have an idea in hell how to save her. Still, he ran toward the dog, calling at him to leave the girl alone. And the dog changed its focus, turning and rushing toward him, teeth bared.

He yelled at Katie to get out of there, but she only crouched on the steps, whimpering.

Jacob started talking to the dog, telling it that he was a friend. That he meant it no harm. That they were brothers. And to his astonishment the dog slowed down, cocking its head to the side and looking at him.

By that time, the dog’s owner had come running, shouting,“Klingon, stay. Klingon, stay.”

The man grabbed the animal by the collar and snapped on a leash. The dog went home quietly. And after that, Jacob stopped every day at the chain-link fence, talking to his new friend, trying to understand Klingon.

That had been the start of his knowledge that there was something inside him that allowed him to communicate with animals. He’d used that skill many times in the years since. In fact, it was now his job. He evaluated animals being held at shelters and animals being considered for special training. Sometimes he also helped with the training.

He could reach out to animals as a man. And he could do it as a wolf, although not as effectively, because he had no spoken words as a wolf. But even without real words, his message of brotherhood got across to other species.

He trotted along beside his two new friends, still humminghis song of fellowship. And the two Rottweilers stayed on either side of him, allowing him free access to the militia compound.

Just as he figured he was home free, something moved to his right.

A guard—with a machine gun.

His eyes fixed on the weapon, Jacob froze in place.

CALEB
clenched his fists at his sides as Ross typed in both variations. He didn’t know how this was going to work, but he could see Ross had faith in the method.

“There are only two hits,” he said after a few moment.

“Hits?”

“I found two men with that name. There’s a Jerome Ruckleman who’s an art museum director in Pennsylvania.” He pointed to several lines of writing on the screen. “There are articles and biographies on him. But he’s probably not the right one, unless Wyatt Reynolds was investigating a bunch of militiamen who are also art forgers.”

The observation earned Ross nervous laughter around the room.

“The other is Jerome Ruckleman who works for the Departmentof Homeland Security.”

Ross switched to another screen. “Apparently, he runs an elite counterterrorism unit.”

Logan whistled through his teeth, then looked at Caleb. “Counterterrorism. Does that ring any bells?”

A sudden sick feeling shot through Caleb as a piece of informationzinged into his head. “I think I know what the colonelis planning to do,” he said, his voice hoarse.

THE
guard walked past, and Jacob let out the breath he was holding, then moved cautiously toward a cluster of buildings,noting their locations. He could see a farmhouse and long low structures ahead of him. Barracks?

Wary of more security forces, he crept closer to the hub of activity, coming to what must be a recreation room, where he heard the sounds of men’s cheerful voices. He inched towardthe light spilling from the doorway, listening to the conversation. It was ordinary, and he gathered from the relaxedatmosphere that they would be there for a while.

When he looked toward the farmhouse, he saw a man standing under the porch light. A man with gray hair cut short, a lined face that matched the mug shot Ross had showed him on the Web, and a neatly pressed camouflage uniform.

Colonel Bowie. In the flesh.

From the shadows, Jacob watched him walk down the steps and head toward the recreation hall.

He’d left the door open a crack. Was there time to get insidethe farmhouse and look around? Or was that taking too much of a chance?

Making a split-second decision, he ran across the open space, then through the door. He was in a comfortably furnishedliving room or lounge. He saw a kitchen off to his right. And down the hall, a light burned. He headed for the back of the house and stepped into a bedroom.

The blanket on the single bed was so tightly tucked in that you could have bounced a coin on it. The desk blotter was clear of everything—not a paper or even a paper clip. In the entire room, nothing was out of place, except a pile of books and papers beside an easy chair in the corner.

Jacob spotted a calendar hanging above the desk. A date was circled in red.

After looking at the calendar, he took a step closer to the table, scanning the top page of the papers. It seemed to be some kind of political statement that the colonel wanted to deliver to the U.S. Government.

He was pawing at the top page, trying to move it aside, when he heard footsteps in the hall.

CALEB
felt all eyes on him. Moistening his lips, he said, “Colonel Bowie is planning to set off something called a dirty bomb in Washington, D.C. I assume that’s something bad.”

Around the room, some of the people drew in a startled breath.

“Yeah, a dirty bomb is bad. Very bad,” Ross muttered. “Do you know about radioactive elements?”

“You mean like radium? Didn’t Madame Curie discover it?”

“Right. She was excited about the medical applications. Radium is only one of the radioactive elements, and she didn’t know they were dangerous. Military men were more interested in the weapons applications. Uranium and plutoniumare also radioactive, and they’re used in certain kinds of deadly weapons. What we call weapons of mass destructionbecause they kill a lot of people at once.”

“Something they developed after the world war?”

“Yeah.” Ross made a harsh sound. “The leaders of countriesaround the world hoped World War One would be the last war. But it didn’t work out that way. We had another world war about twenty-five years later. Only there were big advances in killing ability. What ended the war was one of those weapons of mass destruction. An atomic bomb. It explodeswhen radioactive elements are slammed together so that they reach critical mass.”

Caleb nodded slowly, although he didn’t understand perfectly.

Seeing his expression, Ross said, “You don’t have to know how it works. You just need to know that radioactivity in large amounts is extremely damaging to animal and plant life. Depending on how much you absorb, it can kill quickly or cause illnesses like cancer and leukemia years later.”

“He’s got
that kind of bomb
?”

“Not exactly. Atomic bombs and hydrogen bombs rely on sophisticated technology. But it’s possible to put radioactive material into a conventional bomb. When the explosives go off, the radioactivity is spread over a wide area. And it lingers there for a long time. So if Bowie’s gang set off a bomb like that in Washington, D.C., it would be horrendous.”

“You mean thousands of people could die?” Caleb asked.

“Yes. And part of the city would be contaminated—and unusable, because it takes a long time for radioactivity to decay.”

Ross let that sink in, then looked at Caleb. “Do you know where they’re going to do it?”

Caleb closed his eyes, trying to bring back words that Reynolds had spoken to him. “The Kennedy Center . . . or the Capitol.”

He heard Rinna draw in a quick breath.

“Or both,” he added, then clenched his teeth in frustration.“It’s not clear which.”

“But doing both makes sense,” Ross said. “If they started with the Kennedy Center, rescue efforts would converge there. Then when they did the Capitol, it would be a very nasty surprise. You have a time frame?”

Again Caleb closed his eyes, desperate to dredge up the information. But all he could confirm was, “Soon.”

“Too bad we can’t just phone 911 and tell them about it,” Logan muttered. “Because we don’t have enough informationto be credible.”

“You mean the emergency number?” Quinn asked.

“Yes,” Ross answered. “The phone number you dial when you need the police or the fire department.”

“We could raid the militia compound,” Logan said.

"Kind of risky to try and take them on their own turf,” Ross answered.

They were silent for several moments, then Logan cleared his throat. “Homeland Security could stop them. An anonymous tip? Like when those guys wanted to bomb JFK airport and someone in the neighborhood turned them in?”

Caleb didn’t get the reference, but he didn’t interrupt the exchange.

“No. They couldn’t just charge into the compound on the strength of a tip. They’d have to investigate. And then it might be too late—if the framework is tight,” Ross said.

Logan looked at Caleb. “But what if Wyatt Reynolds went to his boss and told him he knew for sure that an attack was in the works?”

“You mean have Caleb impersonate Reynolds?” Ross asked.

“Yeah.”

Quinn immediately looked upset. “That’s too risky. Caleb doesn’t know enough about Reynolds’ boss—or about Reynolds, either.”

Caleb silently conceded the point, but he wasn’t going to let her dictate what he did or didn’t do. In fact, while he was standing here, he had been working his way into a startling conclusion. He had stayed on earth for seventy-five years afterhe’d died because he thought he had a mission—to avenge his own death. Now he was starting to think there was another reason. He had stayed on earth because he had a more important mission—to prevent the deaths of thousands of people. When he turned it over in his mind, it sounded highfalutin. Something he couldn’t say aloud to anyone else.

But he felt a commitment deep inside himself. He took a moment to catch his breath, then gestured toward the monitor.“If you can find out things about Jerome Ruckleman, you can find out about Wyatt Reynolds, too.”

“Maybe not enough,” Ross said.

CORNERED
in the bedroom, Jacob looked wildly around. The closet door was slightly ajar. He could hide in there. But then he’d be trapped in the room. And what if the guy decidedto hang his clothes in the closet? Or conduct a search of the room?

The only other option was the double-hung window. It was open, but a screen covered the opening.

Hoping it wasn’t fixed too tightly in place, Jacob leaped for the window, tucking his head as he bashed into the screen. His weight sent it blasting outward.

“What the hell?” someone called behind him.

Without stopping to find out what happened next, he made for the fence, his two canine friends running alongside him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“
See what you
can get on Reynolds,” Caleb said. “And maybe more will come back to me.”

“I don’t like it,” Quinn said.

“But you don’t have to do it,” Caleb reminded her.

Quinn started to speak, then clamped her lips together, and he was glad they weren’t going to argue about it in front of a crowd of people. Even if he couldn’t change to wolf form, he could do something else important.

Zarah hadn’t spoken in several minutes. Now she joined the conversation. “But it’s still dangerous.”

Quinn looked like she wanted to hug her friend.

“Why?” he challenged. “Jerry Ruckleman’s not going to attack Reynolds. Reynolds works for him.”

“But he’s going to wonder where he’s been for the past few days,” Ross said.

“Not necessarily. Not if he’s supposed to be in deep cover,” Logan argued.

Quinn glared at him.

“The militia was holding him captive. He escaped,” Caleb said.

“I think if you want this to work, you’re going to have to spend some time getting your story straight,” Ross said. “Let’s hope Jacob comes back with details about the militia camp.

“And you’ll have to do some studying. Not just about Reynolds. You need to know about Colonel Jim Bowie and his militia. Because we don’t know how much Reynolds has already told his boss.”

Caleb shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He didn’t have much experience working in a group. But if these other guys could do it—he could, too. “Then we should get started. I need information from that computer thing.”

Quinn’s gaze shot to Zarah, but the other woman gave a tiny shake of her head. She was a healer, but she apparently didn’t feel comfortable asserting herself now.

Caleb thought he understood why. Zarah was a guest in this world, and she would be going back home as soon as her husband sent for her. Still, the look on her face told Caleb that she had no faith in his abilities.

Quinn was the one who spoke. “At least get some rest beforeyou get to work. You had a hard day yesterday.”

Caleb looked at Ross. “We’re trying to prevent an attack on the capital of the United States, right?”

“Right.”

“And we don’t know how much time we have?”

“Yeah,” Ross agreed.

“Then I think we’d better get on with it. I hope you can find me the information I need.”

“Okay. The way I see it, Ruckleman will expect Reynolds to know about computers and the Internet. So we might as well get started with a Web surfing lesson.” He thought for a moment. “We have to assume Reynolds was held for a day or two before they killed him. That means we have to move quickly because the longer he’s out of contact with his unit, the more explaining he has to do.”

Caleb nodded.

“We don’t know about Reynolds’ mannerisms. Or much personal information. So we need to research that, too.” He looked toward Logan. “Actually, maybe we’d better divide up the search. Can you use my laptop to get background on Reynolds while I focus on Ruckleman?”