Seven Unholy Days (20 page)

36

10:05 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME (LOCAL)

YELLOW CREEK

             
With the deadline minutes away, we were gearing up to post the password on the Fox site as ordered. Working the control room without talking was inefficient so I removed the audio bug from its hiding place and flushed it down the toilet, hoping he was listening. Before busting the code we were a bit perplexed by the instruction to post the password in “unwritten form,” but once we uncovered it as WHITE HORSE we were confident on how to handle it. Fox was cooperative and managed to produce a picture of a stunning white stallion. I inserted the graphic, saved the page file, and uploaded it back onto the web site’s server. And there it was for all to see, including one particular unknown lunatic, whom we had now dubbed AC.

We waited for a response, Tark staring over my left shou
lder, Abdul looking over the right. 10:21 came and went, and still we waited.

“Wonder what’s keeping the old boy?” Tark said.

I stood thinking for a couple of minutes, when suddenly it dawned on me. “I think he’s had us chasing our own tail.”

“What are you speaking of, Matt Decker?”

“I mean this was all just a ruse to keep us busy, and it worked to perfection. Instead of trying to track this idiot down, we spent all night cracking a password.”

“Yeah, but we can at least get back into the CEPOCS code to restore power, so it’s not a bust,” Tark said.

“Stanson won’t allow us to turn it back on for fear of another retaliatory strike.”

“I must say that I was very afraid for my family,” Abdul said.

“Of course you were. He counted on it. But I guarantee you he’s not going to waste the resources to hunt down a family somewhere in the middle of Iran whether we had the password or not. Your family’s fine and I’m sure my father ... ” The realization hit me. Bob Rowe was the only person who had—allegedly—checked on my father’s safety, and it was Bob Rowe who supposedly arranged for an increased police presence around the facility where he lay.

My heart hammered against my rib cage as I grabbed the phone and dialed. “All circuits are busy,” said the infernal sy
nthetic voice.

I stepped with big strides into the receptionist area outside the control room and scribbled the number on a Post-It note. “Andrea, keep trying until you get through. Come get me as soon as you get them on the line.” I walked back into the control room, then stuck my head back around the corner and mouthed a silent “thank you” to her. She was already dialing and gave me a smile and a nod.

Back on station, Abdul rubbed the swollen red rims around his eyes. Tark looked a little ragged, but better than Abdul. “You think something is wrong with your father?” Abdul said.

“No, I’m sure it’s fine.” Abdul wasn’t convinced. I dropped to a knee next to his chair. “Have you tried calling your folks?”

He shook his head. “I have not left here since Tuesday morning and I do not want to make international long distance on company phone.”

“You don’t worry about that,” Tark said. “Call right now. If you can’t get through, give it to Andrea and she’ll keep trying.”

“Thank you.” He started dialing and I levered myself up and back into my chair, something that took way more effort than it should have.

“What now?” Tark said.

“Email travels in both directions. Let’s send him a reminder.”

“Do we run it by the FBI first?”

“I say no.”

Tark shrugged. I typed.

FROM: [email protected]

TO: [email protected]

SUBJECT: Check the FNC home page

You assumed victory. I’ve handed you defeat. If this is to be a fair game, to this victor go what spoils?

M. Decker, He of Fierce Countenance

10:44 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME (LOCAL)

EARTH, TEXAS

Mayor Charlie Raymond had spent the last few hours quie
tly knocking on doors. He knew virtually every soul in town, and he knew the best candidates for the job ahead. The plan called for men who were armed and prepared to fight if need be. Such men are readily available in the Lone Star state and little Earth had its share.

The group of twenty-four was gathered in the band hall at Springlake-Earth High School, a safe distance from City Hall and the intruders. Bruce Thurman was at the downtown area to keep a loose watch on the two and was staying in touch with Charlie with a set of walkie-talkies on a different frequency from the two-way base station back in the P.D. He reported that the two thugs unloaded some sort of equipment from a van and put it in the Civic Center where they thought their town mee
ting was going to take place.

Charlie asked for quiet and the men turned their attention to him. “Fellows, I appreciate every one of you being here and I thank you for doing it quietly like I asked. We have a situation brewing and I’ll need your help to take care of it.”

“You just tell us what you need, Charlie,” someone said.

“Dang straight!” another chimed in.
              “I got to tell you right up front that it may very well involve breaking the law,” he said. The room went quiet. “It’s entirely possible that there will be shooting—”

“You gonna tell us what’s going on or not, Mayor?”

“There are a couple of fellows downtown who I believe came here to kill a bunch of us, maybe all of us for all I know. They claim to be government agents, but I don’t believe it. Most of you know my background and I can tell you that I’ve been around enough crooks in my time to know what they smell like.”

“Just two of ‘em? Hell, they ain’t got a chance against all of us!”

“I want you to end that thinking right now. Given everything that’s gone on this week, it’s obvious a lot of well-trained people are behind it. We’re going to assume these men are competent and deadly. I’m very serious about this. Do you understand?”

The room murmured in agreement and big Charlie Ra
ymond walked to the chalkboard and started drawing. Within two minutes he had a respectable rendition of City Hall and the Civic Center for all to see. “Okay, listen up. They’re expecting a bunch of folks to show up for their meeting at twelve-thirty. We don’t want to put anyone at risk, so our first order of business is to spread the word that nobody—and I do mean not one Texas soul outside this group—is to go anywhere near downtown this afternoon.”

He divided his chalk town into eight sections. “There are twenty-four of you, not counting Bruce and me. Three-man teams is how it’ll work, so get into those groups now.”

After five minutes of shuffling and arranging that reminded Charlie of teams being chosen on a schoolyard playground, the groups were formed and he divvied up the assigned areas.

“Let’s get moving, and remember, not one word about what’s going on. You tell the people to stay away and you make sure they get the message, but nothing more. Don’t tell your wife, don’t tell your girlfriend, your mama, or your Aunt Rosie. If you do, all you’re doing is putting innocent people in da
nger.”

* * *

              “I’m not supposed to be telling nobody about this, so you keep your mouth shut about it, you hear?” Bert Cole said to his wife Susie.

“Well, I don’t understand why you got to go down there and get all mixed up in it. Let the law take care of it, Bertie.”

“I gotta do my part. You just remember to keep in the house and don’t say nothing to nobody about it.”

* * *

              “Gladys, only reason I’m telling you is because I know you won’t let it go no further and I want to be sure you keep all your young’uns away from down there. I got to go now. Bertie would get all in a tizzy if he knew I was talking to you.”

* * *

“That’s right, Eunice! A whole gang of killers. It’s awful, I tell you, just awful!”

37

11:33 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME (LOCAL)

NEAR THE HART COMPLEX

              A hot blast of air on Jana’s face woke her up. She opened her eyes to see White Thunder leaning down looking at her, as if he had intended to wake her up. She had no idea if she had been asleep for ten minutes or two hours. After standing up and stretching she noticed the temperature had risen considerably and the sun was near mid-sky. Her nap had been more than the few minutes she intended.

The woods buzzed faintly with the sounds of nature, insects, birds, and squirrels scurrying about as if everything was no
rmal. Jana walked around, trying to limber up sore muscles, thinking about what to do next. She heard water running, and found a small clear stream about thirty yards from the tree where she had slept while White Thunder kept watch. She untied him from the tree and led him to the stream, where he wasted no time refreshing himself. Nor did she. The water was cool—a pleasant surprise—and it felt good to drink and wash her face. When White Thunder finished drinking, she mounted up.

Staying in the woods made for slower progress, but she was afraid to leave their cover. The stream ran straight through the woods in a path that headed directly away from Hart’s prope
rty. It was shallow with a bed of fine rocks worn smooth by years of flow, so she rode down the middle of the stream, hoping it would make her harder to track as she put distance between her and that psychopath and his band of nuts. She guessed it had been about two hours when the saddle started feeling like a slab of rock but she rode on, stopping occasionally for a cool drink of water from the stream for her and the horse. The stream made a gentle curve and the end of the woods came into view ahead. Just beyond that was a house. She gave a gentle kick and clucked her tongue and they were on their way.

Jana tied him to a small maple about ten yards inside the edge of the woods and jogged across a manicured lawn toward the house ahead. The back of the large modern home faced the woods, surrounded by a sprawling redwood deck around a swimming pool filled with chlorine-deprived green water. She made her way through a small gate and around the pool to a set of sliding glass patio doors and peeked inside.

“Can I help you, young lady?”

Jana shrieked and spun around to see a distinguished loo
king man of about sixty years standing behind her.

“I was in the garage and saw you make your way out of the woods. Don’t take this wrong, honey, but I don’t see many beautiful ladies popping out of the woods in my back yard.”

She had her hand over her heart, trying to catch her breath, tears of relief running down her face. The man put an arm around her shoulder and she fell sobbing against him.

“Let’s go inside and you can tell me what’s going on, okay?”

“I have to use your phone immediately,” Jana said as soon as they walked inside.

“You can try, but I haven’t had any luck getting through to anybody for the past couple of days. I’m Hank Harrington. You got a name?”

“Jana. Where’s the phone?”

He pointed toward the kitchen, where Jana found a wall phone with no dial tone. She went back to the den where Hank was and said, “Do you have a car? We have to get out of here.”

“Hold on there, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere, and neither is my car, until you give me some idea about what’s going on with you.”

“Mister, let’s talk on the road. It’s a matter of life and death. Please!”

“You really should calm down, Ms. Fulton,” he said.

Jana froze for a moment, then slipped her hand into the pocket of the fatigue jacket and curled her hand around the butt of the revolver. “I haven’t told you my last name, Hank.” She turned to him as she pulled the gun and leveled it at him. His eyes expanded to the size of small moons.

“Look, I know you have troubles, honey—”

“Do not call me ‘honey’ again. Do, however, tell me right this moment how you knew my last name. I’ve had a bad week and I will indeed blow your head off.”

Hank was shaking. Hank peed in his khakis, a big dark spot swelling from his crotch and trailing down his leg. “They called from the circle-six and said you broke into the stable and stole their prize stallion. Said you were some kind of animal rights wacko. That’s all I know, lady. Now please put the gun down.”

“For the record, I was kidnapped in Mississippi and brought to this God-forsaken place, you idiot. And that’s no ranch. There’s a seriously deranged man over there. He’s the one b
ehind the power outages and everything else that’s going on and there’s no telling what else he’s going to do if I can’t find somebody to stop him.”

“Fine, whatever you say, Ms. Fulton. Just don’t hurt me, please.”

“Hank, has anyone ever told you what a wuss you are? Don’t bother answering that; just get your car keys and get ready to drive. Now!”

Hank retrieved the keys from a soggy pocket.

“One thing before we go,” Jana said, “do you have a computer here?”

“No, I’ve never owned one.”

“That figures. Let’s roll, Hank.”