Off the Grid (3 page)

“Just like that?”

Ethan had to admit the idea of being able to deal with all this shit in his own time and possibly even find out what the hell had really gone on, but from the protective cocoon of Underground, appealed to him.

Maline nodded. “Just like that. It’s surprisingly easy to take someone off the grid, even one with name recognition such as yourself. You, as Ethan Jackson, would cease to exist in any official capacity. You’d have total freedom from the worries of everyday life and your current situation.”

Why am I even considering this? It’s nuts. How do I know they’re even telling me the truth?

Chapter Two

Maline spoke again. “Your best course of action right now is grab your stuff and come with us. Even if you decide not to become part of the team, we can help you get a new identity.”

“You’d do that even if I said no?”

“As we said, we’re good guys. We’d never feed you to the wolves. Now, if you think this interests you, get in the car with us and see our operation.”

“Okay.”

Did I just agree to this craziness?
His own brain snorted at him.
What, crazier than the rest of the day? I can’t go back now. The neighbors have probably called the police and they’ve no doubt found the guy. I’m guilty. I murdered him. In self-defense, yeah, but even with the letter and all, I’d be looking at jail time for sure, no matter what comes out about my parents. They didn’t club that guy in the head. I did. I’m screwed. I ran and I can’t undo that.

If he did this, there’d be no returning to his old life, ever. How would he explain where he’d been and what he’d done, or why he’d run?

He rose. “I’ll come with you and hear you out. It’s not like my future prospects are especially bright at the moment.” After retrieving his bags, he threw them into the back of a black van and then climbed inside. Andre drove and, as they headed south, Ethan asked, “Where are we going?”

“Our facility is located in Miami,” Maline answered. “It’s about four hours from here.”

After a while, he couldn’t stand being inside his own head any longer and asked, “I assume there’s pay involved? As you probably know, since you seem to have a pretty good grasp of my current situation, I’m not exactly cash-flush at the moment and I do need some money to live on.”

“We compensate everyone who works with us, on a sliding scale depending on their level of involvement in the operation, yes.” Maline spoke again and Ethan had a feeling she did most of the talking when they were trying not to freak people the hell out. Between her prim suit, calm, open expression and physical demeanor, Maline did not come off as threatening. Andre’s trace of an accent alone probably set off bells for some people who’d seen too many James Bond movies.

“How could I disappear? I mean, how does that work?”

He couldn’t believe he was actually entertaining the idea of doing this. It seemed inconceivable, like a plot from a movie or TV show. Of course before this morning Ethan wouldn’t have believed he’d ever be confronted by a couple of thugs saying he owed money and threatening him. Stranger still was how he’d reacted, the blade of his stick connecting with the man’s temple before he’d even stopped to think about it. His body had just taken over and then a dead dude was spilling bright red blood on his floor and he stood with the murder weapon in his hand.

“You wouldn’t be wandering around on your own. We have space at our facility and our operatives live right there. As Andre mentioned, there are three floors to the headquarters. It’s easier logistically and together we can protect our facility better. This job does make you some enemies; we won’t lie about that.”

Ethan nodded.
So surreal. Someone’s been watching me and I never knew it, never even had a clue. I must’ve been too busy playing hockey and letting my parents fuck up my life.

He liked the idea of putting his criminal justice major to work fighting crime. Somewhere
in the back of his mind he’d considered trying to do personal security once his playing days were over. No way could Ethan sit around all day. He’d climb the walls. The last twenty-five years of his life had been spent either studying—at least when he’d been younger and still in school—working out, or playing hockey.

He tried to stretch his legs, since he’d already been on the road for hours, not including the short time while he spoke with Maline and Andre at the truck stop. At 6’3”, few seats, beds, or couches fit him comfortably.

“So I’ve got a pretty recognizable face. I mean, not to everybody, but to some. How am I gonna hide?”

Maline glanced back. “Your hair is pretty long. We’ll want to cut it and probably dye it darker.” She shrugged. “It’s more practical to have shorter hair.”

“Not a big deal. It gets long when I don’t bother to cut it. I wouldn’t consider it a fashion statement.”

“Good to know. We don’t like anyone working for us to feel we’re asking too much of them.”

In many ways, though he had no clue what might lie ahead, Ethan felt a weight lifting from his shoulders. When he’d left Carolina he hadn’t exactly had a plan, except to get away. He had no idea how a person went looking for work off-the-books. Ethan couldn’t very well go into any place where he’d have to give his name or social security number to get a job. No fucking way. So maybe working for Underground was his best option. He shivered.

Hours later, they entered Miami and Andre exited the Interstate before taking them on a winding route to a small bodega. After parking in a garage around the back, he and Maline hopped out, with Ethan trailing. Andre typed in a code on a keypad before a door inside the garage opened. He turned to the right immediately and punched in another code, and that door released.

A dark staircase awaited. Maline had mentioned three floors, but Ethan couldn’t quite picture it. No windows at all? No sunlight, ever, unless they left the premises? As they descended to the first level, the air grew cooler, and Ethan regretted not bringing a jacket or sweatshirt from the van. But the temperature outside in late afternoon sat at about seventy-seven degrees and he hadn’t seen a need.

Andre now used a fingerprint reader and retina scanner to get a third door to open and, as soon as it did, the noise, almost familiar in its pitches and tones, swept over Ethan. The buzz of computers and other equipment soothed his frazzled nerves, as it reminded him of the sights and sounds of the arena. A pang of pain, or regret, or some other emotion he couldn’t even name made his breath catch, but he forced himself under control.
This is not the time to wax nostalgic.

A couple of people stood by the computer area, while a few others huddled around a workstation of some sort.

Maline led him into an office while Andre peeled off and approached the guy sitting at the bank of computer monitors. “Welcome to Underground. Have a seat.”

The door shut behind him, a strangely ominous sound, and then the room was silent. Absolutely silent.
Soundproof walls. Interesting.

“Thanks,” he answered, and sank into one of two buttery-soft leather guest chairs. They reminded him of the uber-comfy furniture in his house.
Probably repossessed soon if they don’t need it for evidence.

Maline sat in a chair on the other side of the desk and then moved a monitor that Ethan could now see was doing some kind of furious calculations to the side so she could see Ethan. Did everyone use computers around here? If so, that could be a problem. Ethan had gone to college and he wasn’t dumb, but his recent experience with computers primarily consisted of playing games and surfing the internet.

“So, Ethan, we’ve got a lot to discuss.”

He took a deep, shaky breath.
What have I gotten myself into?

Chapter Three

He jerked a thumb behind him. “Is it always like this?”

“Yes and no,” Maline answered, the sides of her mouth kicking up in the first full, genuine smile he’d seen from the woman. “One of our teams sent back some new evidence on a trail that had gone cold and the operations people—that’s our main room for coordinating missions and the like out there—are trying to verify its authenticity before we allow the team in the field to act on the intelligence they were given. Sometimes it’s a trap, so we don’t make a move until we’ve checked them out. We’ve been working on this one for a long time, and we want to get this guy.”

“I don’t suppose you can give me any details about it so I can get an idea of how you work and what type of cases you take on?”

Maline cocked her head. “I can tell you a little. It’s actually quite the news story, but you won’t see any reports about it since the government of the United States is squelching it.”

“They actually do that? Tell the media what they can and can’t report on?”

Smiling with an expression of indulgence that managed not to appear insulting, she said, “Not all the time, obviously, but yes. They can and they do. A terrorist is kidnapping the children of politicians in South America. Right now, from our intelligence, it appears he’s got five from three different countries, but our sources say he’s not done. There have been no ransom demands, no proof the children are either safe or dead. The politicians swear they don’t know what he wants.”

Ethan got the distinct feeling Maline suspected they were lying, but why would all of them sacrifice their own kids? This was some fucked up shit. “How do you know if they’re telling the truth or not?”

She sighed, rubbing her temples briefly. It was the first time since he’d met her that she seemed ruffled. “We don’t. They took polygraphs, but you can fake those.”

“Seriously?” The story, despite its tragic circumstances, fascinated him, and he found he’d leaned forward as they’d spoken. Now he sat back once more, balancing the ankle of one foot on his opposite knee. His foot bounced a couple of times and Ethan reached down to grasp it.

“Unfortunately, yes. So we’re chasing him all over, unfortunately one step behind at the moment, simultaneously trying to prevent him from taking others, figure out where he’s holding the kids, whether or not they’re even still alive, and if it’s possible to rescue them. I shouldn’t have told you most of that, but my gut tells me you’re trustworthy.”

“I’d never put those kids in harm’s way. It always amazes me the two sides of people. There are so many good people in this world, and yet so much evil too.

And some asshole kidnapping kids? Yeah, that pushed his buttons and adrenaline began to pump through him.
What a fucking coward. Can’t even pick on people his own size.
He remained in his chair, though his fingers began to beat out a staccato rhythm on the ankle he’d grabbed earlier. If Maline noticed, she didn’t comment.

“Sounds like heavy stuff,” was the best he could get out.

“It is. There are a lot of bad people in the world. Most Americans go about their daily lives blissfully unaware of the atrocities occurring elsewhere. The Underground is a serious group of men and women committed to making the world a better place, whether it’s here in our home base of Miami, elsewhere in the US, or halfway around the world.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “So what are your initial thoughts, impressions?”

He asked the first question that came into his head. “Do you and Andre do missions?”

One blonde eyebrow rose. “What kind of leaders would we be if we didn’t?”

“But if you’re out there,” Ethan gestured upward, “how are you manage the team?”

“An excellent question. Please don’t be afraid to ask as many questions as you’d like, of any of us.” She steepled her fingers and rested her chin on them. “Some of the operatives, especially, may be more reluctant to discuss their pasts or why they’re here, but the rest of us are pretty open. To answer your question, unless absolutely necessary both Andre and I are not out of the office at the same time.”

“You both came to see me today.”

“Yes, for a short while it’s fine, and we have a driver ready at all times if we need to get away. You were someone who merited both of us taking the time out from our day.”

He couldn’t imagine that being possible, but the thought pleased him for some reason.

“How many of you are there?” he asked, curious.

“If you join us, twelve, not including the clean-up guys, who aren’t actually operatives. I describe them more like hired goons, which doesn’t seem to offend them. They were the guys guarding the door when we came in” She chuckled and he smiled, having seen those guys. Yeah, they probably considered that designation a compliment.

“From what I saw, I wouldn’t fuck with them. Pardon my swearing. It’s pretty much a hockey player personality trait.”

Maline laughed. “Nor does that number include any support staff, like pilots or others we work with from time to time or on specific projects. That doesn’t mean all twelve are available for operations. There’s Stumpy, who cooks and cleans around here, though he won’t go into anyone’s private area. Danny is our computer specialist and Ciana is our resident weapons manufacturer.”