Precipice (19 page)

Dominic glared at his captor. He refused to let this man toy with his mind. He’d marched into a trap without even knowing which man he chased.
My father really would be disappointed,
he sullenly agreed. He gritted his teeth, forcing back the urge to spit a biting retort, instead choosing to swallow the insult.

“Nothing? No comeback? Now I’m disappointed.” He didn’t look it, though…rather, he appeared intrigued by Dominic’s silence. “Well, if you aren’t going to say anything, I guess I’ll be going. Today’s a very busy day for me. One I trust you’ll remember for many years.” He arose from the chair and started to fold it, before pausing. “Or you would, anyway, if you…”

“He’s your brother. Your twin brother. How could you-?” The words spat out of Dominic’s mouth.

Yemi’s response was instantaneous and sharp, his chin snapping up. He leaned in close to the captive’s face. “He didn’t deserve this life. I did.”

Dominic flinched at the terrifying change in demeanor.

“When we were born, he fell ill. He almost died in those first few days. He should have died. That’s why our parents named him Amadi. It’s Yoruban for ‘destined to die at birth.’”

The malice in his eyes was undeniable. They had not looked as soulless to Dominic as they did right then. “Somehow he survived, though he remained weak. Our parents favored him because of it. Claimed it was a sign from the gods that he was ‘special.’ But he wasn’t. He was always a weakling. I was destined to be the golden child, the only child, but that blessing was bestowed on him instead.”

He sneered, “Now, though, he’ll get to feel what I did when I was given to the mercenaries, beaten and tortured, psychologically twisted. And I’ll be on top of the world to enjoy it all.”

“But he’s family…”

“Family?” he sneered. “My family’s dead to me. They abandoned me under the worst of circumstances. Circumstances not only still happening around the world, but perpetuated by nations like this one giving arms support to rebel groups. They deserve what’s coming to them. They all do.”

Dominic stared, speechless, mesmerized by the demonic trance Olayemi had entered. Then, just as suddenly as his rage had materialized, it dissipated into thin air and the man straightened.

“Anything else?” he asked, flashing a sickly sweet, toothy smile.

Dominic stammered, unsure what had just taken place. “Uh…I…I dunno…” Yemi nodded once and turned toward the door, chair in hand, but Dominic scrambled to get his thoughts under control. “Wait…What about Gorani and the other weapons dealers?”

That question gave his captor pause. He turned toward Dominic, setting the chair back down with a soft clack. This time, however, he chose to remain standing behind it.

“I’ll admit I’d forgotten you knew about those, but I guess you assumed that was Amadi at the time, didn’t you?” He mused, “Well, it doesn’t hurt to tell you now. I was window shopping for a special diversion…”

“Diversion from what?”

“This weekend’s festivities.”

“The town’s anniversary celebration?” This confirmed what Mack had told them. That vampire freak had led him straight into a trap.
He must have called Amadi. Sorry…he must have called this Olayemi as soon as we sped off.

“That’s right. And this time tomorrow, I’ll be quite wealthy because of it.”

“How do you figure that’s going to happen? Planning on mugging a bunch of rich people?”

“Interesting idea, but no.” His tone grew louder and more intense at the prospect of getting to explain his genius to someone, to let him in on the secret. “We may do a few kidnappings for ransom, what with the star power attending the celebration, but we’ve got something bigger planned. Care to wager a guess?”

Dominic remained silent, at a loss.

“No? I’ll give you a hint,” he winked. “It has to do with the capitol building.”

“I don’t-,” he began. But then it dawned on him. “Surely you don’t mean - ?”

“I do!” That creepy grin returned. He seemed thrilled Dominic managed to guess correctly. “The vault will be unguarded. Everyone will be at the parade and other festivities.”

“But that’s just a myth…an old legend. Everyone knows that.” Dominic laughed aloud in derision, unable to help himself. The capitol building wasn’t a true capitol, but it looked the part, so the name had stuck. In reality, the ornate structure housed the mayor’s offices and a few dozen government workers. Because it was rare for such a building to exist out here in the boondocks, a variety of rumors floated around to explain the reason for its construction.

One of the more fanciful stories held that a top-secret bank vault lay beneath that structure, protected by a complex labyrinth and a heavy electronic security system. The idea of secret money had been rumored ever since the building’s initial construction, but local historians dismissed it as the rambling brain child of an old, drunken moonshiner. Besides, no plausible explanation ever surfaced to explain how it got there, why it would be in a town like Greenlake, and who would have constructed it.

“Careful, Dominic, I wouldn’t chuckle at dragons.” Olayemi’s lips twisted. “It’s no myth. The vault does exist.”

“How do you know that?” Dominic doubted the story, but Yemi must be confident enough to risk an assault on the capitol during the largest celebration in the city’s history.

“Now, now, I can’t reveal everything just yet,” Yemi taunted him.

Dominic finally had enough. Summoning every ounce of strength and willpower his sore, stiff muscles provided him, he lunged forward, straining at the bonds that held him. He could almost feel himself snapping the cords and flying upward, colliding violently with Yemi to take him down. Almost.

Instead, the bonds held fast. No matter how hard his muscles flexed and how much his body wrenched against the knots, all he earned for his efforts were painful rope burns on his bared biceps. The knots held fast, seeming to tighten even further against his efforts. As he sank into his chair, defeated, his captor snickered.

“Growing up with mercenaries will teach you a few tricks with rope.”

Dominic ignored the smug expression and comment. “Why are you doing all of this? What do you want?” he demanded.

“The same things all men want. Wealth. Power. Fame. Success.”

“There are ways to get that without breaking the law.”

His retort was short. “Very true.”

Dominic sat without speaking for a whole minute, waiting for more. Surely more explanation was coming. But nothing came. “So what do you want with me?”

A sound from the hallway momentarily distracted Yemi, but after listening for a few seconds, he answered. “Technically, I never wanted you…still don’t. You came to find me, remember? Once you arrived on scene, I had to do something. What did you expect? A sugar cookie and a glass of milk?”

That would have been much better
. His attempt at humoring himself failed. “So why am I alive? You could’ve just killed me.”

The look Yemi shot his way chilled Dominic to the bone. It was difficult to accurately describe, but he instantly knew he had made a mistake. A strange smile crept across the man’s face, satisfied and smug, as though pleased with what he was about to say. At the same time, Dominic recognized a tinge of disappointment in the wrinkles around his lips.

“If it were up to me, you’d get a bullet in your head and we’d be done with it. You’d be long dead by now, your body stashed where no one would ever find it.” He smiled serenely. “Unfortunately, I was persuaded otherwise.”

Persuaded? By who?

The next words that escaped Yemi’s mouth sent shock waves rattling down Dominic’s spine. A violent rush of blood shot to his head. Had he been on his feet rather than bound in a chair, his knees would have buckled.

Yemi sneered. “Shannon? Will you come in here?”

Krieger followed Jacob Sloan into a stunning, if unusual, room. He had a hard time believing this was actually someone’s office. Twice the size of Sloan’s space, if not larger, it seemed even more expansive because of the floor to ceiling, glass windows that ran along two walls and overlooked the downtown city streets.

A small sitting area took up the area nearest the door they’d just entered. Two oversized black leather armchairs and a couch bordered a small glass-top table. All the seats faced what Krieger guessed was the newest high-definition TV on the market. A full 72 inches of pixelated beauty, its color spectrum spanned twice that of anything else in stores. Such a television must be custom-ordered. They didn’t sell anything like it in stores.

The opposite half of the room gave a different feel than the near side. High-class business. Wood-paneled bookshelves lined the right wall, made of high-end cherry. The desk facing the door was one of the most elegant he’d ever seen. Either cherry or mahogany wood, with a black top inlay, it had been etched with some fancy design that reminded Krieger of the fleur-de-lis.

Atop the black inlay sat two large computer monitors, positioned adjacent to each other and centered on the desk. To one side of the monitors stood a small picture frame, to the other a marble desk lamp.

A myriad of plaques and awards displayed the occupant’s many accomplishments. Diplomas from Duke University, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, and Harvard Business School, several certifications for weaponry, and a variety of medals Krieger didn’t recognize hung on the far wall.

The name on the door had read simply
C. Dax
—no title—but based on the room, this was a man of prominence and influence. The dual monitor set-up on the desk hid the chair and the office appeared to be empty. Krieger and Sloan took a few steps into the office.

“Dax!” Sloan barked to the empty office.

“Please come in.” The voice emerged out of nowhere, as though through an incredibly clear intercom, but Krieger couldn’t spot any obvious source.

“We’ve got a problem. It’s Randal and Faye.”

“I know.” A man emerged, disproving the intercom theory. He rose from his chair and stepped out from behind the desk. Krieger choked down a gasp.

All military personnel who served in combat went through training on emotional control. Remaining clear and emotionless allowed for quick thinking. When still active, Krieger had passed every one of those tests with flying colors. But he wasn’t prepared for the appearance of the man who now stood before him and it must have shown.

“Carter. I’d like you to meet General Michael Krieger, a new outside consultant working with my team. Mike, this is Carter Dax, Deputy Director of SISA.” Sloan made the introductions.

It was obvious why the director had been unseen. Standing maybe five feet tall, the director could be easily hidden behind the monitors, but even ignoring his short stature, unusual in this business, he would stand out anywhere.

His skin a deep bronze, likely from years basking in the sun, created a stark contrast with his thick, snowy hair, long and slicked back. He was perhaps eligible for the senior citizen discount at the local museum, but the only signs of his age were accompanying crow’s feet around his eyes and lines across his forehead.

Even more surprising was the man’s laidback attire. Whereas everyone else in the office wore identical dark suits and ties, Carter Dax had dressed for a night out on the town. A blue screen-printed T-shirt and black leather jacket topped blue jeans and brown sandals. He looked as though he’d just arrived on his motorcycle, not like he was ready for a full day at a government intelligence office.

“Krieger, huh? German, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.” In the presence of a superior, his military training kicked in and he instinctively stood at attention.

“At ease, soldier.” Dax smirked. “I’m a director, not a General.” Carter Dax spoke in a deep voice, with a slight Australian accent.

“Yes sir.” Krieger relaxed his posture. Once he got past the surprise at meeting this man, he kind of liked him. He projected a calming aura about him.

“To business, then.” The director turned toward Sloan, his smile dissipating. “I assume you’re here about the Amadi case?”

“Exactly. Randal and Shannon are AWOL and their tracer was left behind on the ground of a parking lot…”

“That’s right.” Dax already knew.

“And this morning, Krieger discovered a connection between our victims, too, through Sasori.” Sloan’s gestures and tone were agitated.

“
The
Sasori? Hiroto Sasori?”

“That’s the one. Looks like he’s been renting space to some nasty folks.”

“So you think your agents discovered this and that’s why they went off grid?” Krieger stood amused at the interaction between Sloan and the director. Sloan could eat the smaller director for breakfast with room left over, but Dax held command of the room.

“As you know, Randal can be brash. He may have tried to go after Sasori –”

“You mean, after Amadi,” Dax interrupted.

“Right. If he uncovered confirmation that Sasori’s company is connected to those murders, he wouldn’t wait until morning to get a team together. He’d go after Amadi himself.”

Dax smiled his approval. “Interesting theory. But I’ve had Ford and Williams stationed in Campbell since yesterday afternoon. They haven’t seen or heard any activity there at all.”

Sloan grunted. Krieger had never heard a walrus grunt, but he suspected it would sound exactly like that. He was stumped.
If they’d not gone back to Sasori Software, then where were they?

“My thoughts exactly,” Dax grimaced.

“What about the other properties?” Krieger had said little, so his voice sounded jarring, even to himself. Both men turned toward him.

“What do you mean?” the director asked.

“Well, Sasori’s a rich man and his software company was originally headquartered here. He doesn’t own just that one building in Campbell. Maybe Dominic and Shannon were tipped off about another location.”

“Of course!” Dax exclaimed, and smacked a palm to the side of his head. “He has a half dozen properties all over the area.”

Krieger chimed in, “So if we can research what else he owns –” His voice trailed off as Dax marched behind his desk and started typing. Krieger and Sloan moved closer, but the boss waved them off.

Dax held a high security clearance, one of the many generous perks of his position in the governmental pecking order, so it only took him a few keystrokes to bypass the security features of the site he wanted. Once he’d accomplished that, he beckoned the two men in again to help search. “Other than his vacation home, Sasori owns four different properties in this town.”

“Including the one in Campbell?” Sloan asked.

Dax scrolled down the page, the three men searching for any clue. “Including Campbell. So we’ve got three other locations to look at.”

The three men fell silent as they concentrated on the images on the screen.

“There.” Dax jabbed a finger at the screen.  “That’s the one.”

“How do you know?” Sloan asked.

“Because,” Dax murmured, so soft Krieger thought he misheard. “My plan is working.”