Off the Grid (A Gerrit O'Rourke Novel) (36 page)

Jack piped up. “The good thing is he couldn’t get information to Kane on a regular basis. For example, on this op he couldn’t let Kane know what our plan was because he never was out of our sight. I mean, they didn’t even know for sure we came to Albuquerque until it was too late.”

A chill swept through Gerrit. “But he did know one thing he could have passed on to Kane.”

Alena gripped his hand. “Oh no!”

Gerrit nodded. “Kane must know Joe is in Harrogate. We need to get word to him right now.” He hit his radio transmission button. “Willy, we need to get in touch with Joe. Warn him that Kane might know he’s over there.”

“I’ve been trying to raise him. Joe’s not answering…” Worry seemed to weigh down every word Willy spoke. “I think they got to him, Mr. G.”

They reached where Willy sat with the rental van. He climbed into the car and they sped away, leaving the van and everything else behind. About ten miles out of town, Jack stopped and switched places with Gerrit. “You drive while I make a few calls.”

Gerrit listened to Jack phoning his contacts, glanced up in the rearview to check on Alena and Willy sitting in the backseat. Alena seemed to be fighting back tears. Willy sat expressionless, staring out the window. Neither had spoken since they got into the car.

Jack finished his calls.

Gerrit looked over at him. “We should be good until sunup. By then, I imagine Kane will have his people slip enough information to the local law enforcement that they will be broadcasting a BOLO on our vehicle—and us.”

Jack shook his head. “That’s why I just made those calls. Let my people know they need to squash any BOLOs if they can. I directed them to put out a bogus alert for known terrorist that just hit the lab. These terrorists are believed to be en route to Mexico. And we all know how well Mexico cooperates with the U.S. on border issues.”

Gerrit leaned forward. “Colonel, we need to regroup and head for Harrogate. While there still might be time.”

Jack nodded. “Contacted Beck Malloy, Gerrit. He’ll be expecting your call about now.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I told him to expect it.” Jack glanced back at him. “Take my cell phone. It’s heavily encrypted, and Beck will recognize the code name that appears on the readout.”

Gerrit dialed the number Joe gave him, using his left arm to steer the car. On the second ring, a man’s voice answered. “Jack, is that you?”

Gerrit cleared his throat. “This is Gerrit O’Rourke. Beck Malloy?”

“In person. Man, I was hoping we’d never have to talk. What’s going on down there? I got all kinds of terrorist alerts going off. Our office is scrambling to try to get on top of this.”

“We got in and did our business. But we have a couple of problems.” Gerrit saw Willy and Alena look at each other for a moment, sadness in their eyes.

“Like what?”

“One of our guys, Hank Schneider, turned out to be a traitor. Worked for Kane the whole time. He tried to take Alena prisoner. I shot him.”

A moment lapsed before Beck spoke again. “And the second problem?”

“I think they’ve got Joe. He’s MIA.”

“Oh, man.” Beck seemed to be searching for something to say.

“I’m sending you a link to a secure website Willy and Joe maintain. Pull the data from that system and have your people start to work through it. It’s what Joe was searching for. Project Megiddo. Remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“We’ve uploaded everything from Millennium Technologies. Handle with care, Beck. If it gets out in the open, this will set off all kinds of alarms.”

“Gotcha. Let me start pulling some strings on my end. Be ready to move. Now, put Jack on the line. I’ll tell him where we can pick you guys up.”

Gerrit handed the phone to Jack. “He needs to talk to you, Colonel.”

Jack cradled the phone against his left ear, listening. “Got it, Beck. I’ll get them connected from my end.” He closed up the phone and tossed it on the console. “I’m going to hook you guys up with a pilot and a small plane just across the border in Arizona. The pilot will get you to a major airport, where Beck will have a contact meet you. They will get you across the pond. In England, another contact will get you to within a grenade’s reach of Kane’s place. Once there, you guys will be on your own. Beck and I have to steer clear of any overseas operations without clear sanction from our bosses. Don’t want to ruffle any feathers over at State or the CIA. I’d ask to tag along, but under the circumstances, I don’t see me getting the green light.” He let that sink in before continuing. “Understood?”

Gerrit nodded. “Got it, Colonel. And who’s this contact in England?”

“You’ll recognize him when he makes contact. Remember, Kane must be expecting you to show up there. Be careful. And let’s hope you can bring Joe back safe and sound.”

Gerrit stared out the window. Easy to say from the safety of this car on U.S. soil. Over there, they would truly be on their own. And they were going up against a formidable enemy, one with connections in all the right places. An enemy with unlimited resources.

They had to move fast. If Joe was still alive—and that was big
if
—there was little time left.

Kane was an impatient man.

Harrogate, England

S
taff members seemed to sense something was critically wrong. Their boss sat secluded in his office for hours, rarely emerging. And when he did, Richard yelled and snarled to those around him. After he exhausted himself, he would slam his door shut and remain inside after barking out clear orders not to be disturbed.

Richard had every right to be upset. Collette called four hours ago to let him know what happened at the lab. Security breached. Gerrit and his troublemakers made it inside and toyed with the system before blowing a hole in the door and eluding SWAT with the help of a helicopter gunship.

If Gerrit escaped with the plans to Project Megiddo, Richard would personally shoot everyone in the lab who let those intruders escape. Including Collette. She seemed aware of the depth of his anger and tried to keep her report short and to the point. She was on her way to England.

He knew her flight would be filled with trepidation and fear.
Let her suffer!

Joe O’Rourke’s interrogation did not go well. There had been an overdose of medication and the target had slipped into unconsciousness—again. So far, he remained unresponsive. The medical adviser told him the guy might croak if they pushed too hard. Only time would tell. Richard had been amazed at how the man held up. This was not the same man his people dangled in the air in Chicago.

Again. Major frustration.

He needed to know what Joe could tell him about Gerrit and the others. About who in government aided them in their fight against Richard’s people. Unfortunately, Joe kept this information from Hank Schneider.

His phone continued to ring but he ignored it. Just more bad news.

A timid knock on the door caused him to curse once again. “I told you I wanted to be left alone. Get outta here!”

Again the knock. Was this person insane?

He sprang up and hurled open the door. A twenty-something woman with frightened eyes and pale skin stood before him, her hands shaking.

“Sir, you have a call holding. I really think you might want to take it.”

The look in her eyes made Richard withhold his fury. The call must be important enough for this young thing to ignore his orders. Her eyes drifted toward the desk and the blinking call-holding light. “He’s waiting.”

Richard stormed over to the desk and yanked the receiver up to his ear. “Kane here, who is this?”

“Richard. I think you know who this is.”

Stuart.
Just the sound of the man’s voice made Richard cringe.
Uh-oh
. Word was getting out. “What can I help you with, sir?”

“I hear disturbing reports about acts of terror down in our lab in Albuquerque. Are these reports true?”

Richard clutched the phone. “We had an attack, but the intruders have been repulsed. There is extensive property damage. I am waiting for a situation report right now.”

“And our…project. Has it been compromised?”

“I assure you we have not been compromised. They tried to get to our computer system, but our people and Albuquerque’s SWAT unit got there first. They had to pull back.”

“And our guest. Has he cooperated with you?”

“Not yet. He needs a period of rest before we continue.”

“This performance is less than I would expect, Richard. Maybe we picked the wrong man after all.”

Stuart’s haughty tone—as if each word he spoke came down from on high—grated on Richard’s ears. He would like nothing better that to screw a .9mm barrel into this guy’s ear and force him to eat those words. Instead, he spoke with deference. His life depended upon it.

“Give me a couple days to contain this. Once I get our guest to open up, then I can move on to those causing us these problems.”

“You have twenty-four hours. Then we bring in someone else who
will
get the job done.”

“Yes, sir,” Richard said, gritting his teeth.

“We are committed to the timetable for this operation. Time is ticking.”

And you’re ticking me off. “
I’ll get on it right away, sir. You can depend upon it.”

Stuart coughed before speaking. “I used to think I could depend upon you. But after everything that has happened this last month, I have my doubts.
We
have our doubts.”

“I’ll keep in touch. You will know something in the next twelve hours.”

The line cut off.

Richard knew his time was short.

Albuquerque, New Mexico

A
s Beck Malloy drove up, he saw floodlights set up as dusk settled over the flat dessert terrain.

A small army of federal investigators descended on the torn-up remains of Millennium Technologies. FBI, ICE, Homeland Security, ATF, and a host of other agencies—including Albuquerque PD—milled around the staging area.

The entire compound had been cordoned off. Armed law enforcement—local and state officers, some with dogs—walked the perimeter, guarding against any spectators, rubberneckers, or media slipping inside. It was as if a small army had descended upon this quiet industrial park after someone declared war.

Beck flashed his credentials to an officer guarding access to an ever-expanding parking lot. He parked his car, striding over to where the command center had been set up in an eighteen-wheeler trailer. Occasionally, a helicopter passed overhead, floodlights flashing back and forth as the flight crew searched for intruders from their vantage point above.

His target, a heavyset agent with a protruding gut wearing a blue FBI windbreaker. “Special Agent Stephen Riker. We spoke on the phone.” Beck extended his hand.

The other man squinted at him suspiciously for a moment. “Beck? Beck Malloy?” He shook Beck’s hand.

“The one and only.”

“Long way from D.C., my man. What brings you out to my neck of the woods?”

“Terrorism, for starters. What kind of lab is this?”

Riker stiffened. “Don’t yank my chain, Malloy. I checked you out after your call. I saw your security clearance. You tell
me
what’s going on here.”

Beck was getting tired of always playing cat and mouse with these guys. They were just hard-working agents trying to do their job. This was the down side of working intelligence. “That’s what I’m here to find out, Riker. What have you learned so far?”

Not buying it, Riker looked at him in disbelief. “Okay. You want to play it that way. Fine! I was told to cooperate, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy getting jerked around. Not in a case I’m supposed to investigate.” The agent gave Beck the detail on the lab he’d already learned directly from Jack Thompson and Gerrit O’Rourke.

“Anybody get hurt?” Beck already knew the answer, but he wanted Riker to believe this was all new information.

Riker studied Beck closer. “After the intruders fled the scene, the chopper pulled away and SWAT found one man dead just inside the building. He must have been a third intruder, but it looked like one of his own killed him. Stabbed in the leg and double-tap to the head. Close range.”