The Gillespie Five (A Political / Conspiracy Novel) - Book 1 (42) (18 page)

Chapter Thirty-Six

It was nearly four in the afternoon when Ken drove to Alex's work, troubled.  He had already been by Alex's apartment, letting himself in with a spare key.  Ken hadn't been sure what he’d been looking for, but the first thing he’d noticed was that all of Alex's machines were gone, even his desktop.  It was curious enough, but not something that triggered Ken's internal alarms.  After all, Alex may have had to take his equipment with him for some reason.  But Alex’s ‘disappearing’ act?  That did concern him. 

Especially in light of what he had heard that senator announce earlier today, and Alex’s continued lack of communication.  The way Ken saw it was that if Alex had found something worth pursing, even with the single mindedness he could possess, he would have least attempted to contact Ken.  Especially if it involved Tommy.

So Ken had continued his circuit of his brother's meticulous apartment, trying to find something that would let him know what
was
going on.  All the while he had been shaking his head and wondering how his brother never seemed to leave a mess, not even in the bathroom. 

No kids,
he thought. 

'
Just wait until you have kids little bro'
, he had told his brother once after Alex had stopped to take the time to wipe down everything in the kitchen before he would go out to a ballgame.  His brother had always been like that though.  Meticulous.  Not a perfectionist.  Alex was never that.  But meticulous.  So when Ken spotted the coffee cup and stains on the floor, he stopped, more concerned.

He felt something heavy settle into his stomach as he walked over, squatting down to touch the stains.  One eyebrow rose as he noted that the mess had dried and crusted over from the sugar.  His brother could never drink anything without adding sugar.  The stain told him that whenever the accident had happened it had been a while ago.  Something was definitely wrong. 

Finally, he made it to Alex’s workplace. The guard at the gate had him stop to fill out paper work and then handed him a visitor’s badge.  He then directed Ken to drive through the main entrance and to turn right, until he came to three buildings.  Alex’s was the first one the right.  Once inside, Ken walked up to the receptionist, giving his name, who he was there to see, and then took a seat to wait.  Ten minutes later his thoughts were interrupted.

"Sir?"

Ken looked up at the receptionist.

"Yes?"

"Sir, I've made several calls.  Alex isn't in today.  Should I schedule you an appointment for tomorrow?"

"No.  No.  He's my brother and I think there might be a problem.  Is there anyone he works with I can speak with?  His boss maybe?"

She gave him a thin smile.  "I'll check."

Another few minutes passed as he heard her make several quiet calls before saying, "Unfortunately they all seem to be in meetings.  Can I leave a message?"

Frustrated, he rose. "Is there no one else?  A colleague maybe?"

Her mouth pursed as she said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Moore.  I can take down your information and have someone call you as soon as they are available."

"Never mind." 

Ken turned to leave, walking out the door and back to his car.   As he drove past the guard, lost in thought, he distractedly turned to merge onto the highway. 

"Take the next left and turn into the King Sooper's parking lot."

Startled, Ken slammed on the brakes.  "What the-"

"Just shut up and drive.  I'm a friend of Alex's." 

Ken turned to look in the back seat where he could only make out the shape of someone lying on the floor.  Not sure what was going on, he did as asked, discreetly reaching for the gun he kept in the driver side door.  As he was pulling into the parking lot, he tucked the gun under his leg. 

"Park as far away as possible from the store."

Ken found a spot behind a large truck and parked.  "Okay, now tell me who the hell you are and why you’re in my car!"

The man sat up, staying low in the back seat.  Ken got a good look and realized he couldn't be much older than Tommy.

"My name's Jason.  I work with your brother.  Yesterday morning, his logic bombs started going off and-"

"Alex set off
bombs
?"

The kid snorted.  "
Logic
bombs.  It’s a computer term.  It's a way to trigger something to send alerts or whatever if someone is trying to break into a system, or something hasn't occurred in a set period of time.  In this case, Alex didn't log in when he should have."

"What does all of that mean?"

"It appears that, like your son, Alex has been taken."

Ken listened, stunned as Jason relayed all of the events that had occurred from the time they had started researching the FBI angle. Many of the events Alex had already filled him in on.

First his son.  Now his brother. 

"So what can we do?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to keep a very low profile and disappear off the grid for a while.  I don't want another visit."

"That's it?  You're just going to leave Alex hanging?"

"Alex can manage just fine.  And there isn't much I can do anyhow.  I've already spent enough time with those suits."

Ken saw the kid shudder slightly and wondered what had happened to him.  "Fine.  I'll handle this myself.  If I have any more questions though, how can I find you?"

"You can't.  I'll find you."

With that, Jason hopped out of the back seat and began walking.

Ken watched him disappear down the street, wondering what had just happened.  After a few minutes he started the car and went to the only place he could think of.  The police station.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Police Commander Nathan Lee sat at his desk with the door to his office closed, the blinds on the windows shut, and stared off into space.  In all his years on the force he had seen a lot of bizarre and horrendous things, things he wished he could erase from his mind.  But the disappearance of Thomas Moore along with three other people, the hints of FBI involvement and now this, were all combining to push themselves to the top place in his list of the bizarre.  

He turned to look at Ken Moore's latest statement, this one concerning his brother.  It read like a cliché conspiracy theorist novel, painting a picture of clandestine men in black, kidnapped American citizens held against their will, and cloak and dagger meetings.  He wanted to throw it in the garbage, chalk it up to the ravings of a distraught man desperately trying to find his son.  But he couldn't.  The connection in the disappearances, the announcement by Senator Gillespie, and now Alex Moore’s disappearance were enough to make even a blind man see that something was going on.  But damned if he had gotten anywhere with the senator or the FBI.  The most his office had gotten in response to their inquiries was a polite 'fuck off'.  If these were the people they were holding, they weren't going to release names anytime soon.

Leaning over, he picked up the phone.  There was one person he thought could help.  The fact that he had already contacted Lee, leaving a very succinct and intriguing message the day before, only added to Lees’s confidence in reaching out to him.

"John."

"Nathan.  Long time no speak, partner." 

Nathan smiled at the familiar gravelly voice and the drawn out vowels.  Despite having lived in Colorado for nearly twenty years, his ex-partner still had a bit of Texas twang.

"You know how it goes.  Work, sleep, work, sometimes no sleep."

"And no life."

They shared a chuckle. 

"I got your message.  I’d ask how you knew what I was looking for, but I know better."

John gave a low chuckle.  "So I’m taking your return call to mean you want that chat?"

"Yep.  And a beer or two sure would be good right now."

"Figured it would be that kinda chat."

"With a little crazy mixed in."

"El Diablo Cara, one hour?"

"Sure." 

He heard the phone click, and smiled.  John never was one for many words.

Nathan had never asked what his ex-partner did for a living now.  John was not one to divulge much about himself anyways.  But he was a good man and a solid friend, despite the hint of crazy in his eyes.  And, if things ever got a little hot, there was no one Nathan would rather have at his back.  He imagined that if it had been a different life, John would have been a sheriff or a bounty hunter, going out, guns blazing, with a smile on his face.  Nathan laughed at the thought.  But knew it was true.  John was one of those men born in the wrong timeline.

And he might just be the man to help Nathan knock down some locked doors. 

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Nathan found his ex-partner already at the bar, with three empty shot glasses in front of him.  He quirked an eyebrow at John as he joined him.

"A little early for that."

John gave him a half smile in greeting, pretending to stare off into space.  Nathan followed his gaze to the mirror behind the bar, John's sharp eyes met his.

"Work?"

John grunted.  Nathan ordered a beer, watching John watch the patrons behind him through the mirror.  After a moment he picked out the target, a tall, thin kid, no more than twenty-five, was trying to be discrete as he handed a small package over to a young, dark haired girl.  He quickly pocketed the money, his eyes darting around the bar before turning to disappear into the crowd.

"You going after him?"

"Nope."

"The girl then?"

John sighed and looked at Nathan.  The lines of age seemed deeply etched in his face today.  "Ya.  That's my youngest."

Nathan did a double take from John back to the girl.

"
Melissa
?"

"Ya.  She's been a handful since Elizabeth…"

Nathan finished the thought silently.  Since Elizabeth, John’s wife, had been hit by a drunk driver and put into a coma.  Nathan could still hear the pain.  Five years of unanswered hope did that to you.

"Anything I can do?"

"No.  But thanks.  I just had to see it with my own eyes.  I'll figure something out."

Nathan looked at John, a man who had taken down thugs, mob bosses, drug dealers and worse.  He had been in situations that would make most seasoned cops quit.  But it looked like John had finally found his Achilles heel.

Nathan opened his mouth to say something when John spit out, "You ever heard of extraordinary or extreme rendition?"

"Sure.  They used it in the last few wars with the Middle East.  It allows the military to get around rules against interrogation, right, by taking them to another country not covered by those laws?"

"Yep.  I think you might be barking up one of those situations."

"You mean the kid and the three other – possibly four other – disappearances?  You think they've been taken out of the
country
?  That seems a bit…" He stopped himself before he said, 'extreme'.  That was John's point.

"Out of the country but not necessarily off of territory located within the United States boarders."

Nathan looked at the empty shot glasses in front of John again and then back at his partner.  John's eyes were crystal clear but still…

"Explain."

"It's something that has been flying around the rumor mill for a while and recently that rumor mill has gotten noisier than ever."

"And what would that rumor be exactly?"

"That the US government is using loop holes in the treaties with the Native Americans to ship citizens to nearby reservations and interrogate them at their leisure.  Nothing that can be used in a court of law mind you, but then it doesn't take much to take some of that information and create a paper trail later that makes it look legit."

Nathan's face must have showed his incredulity.  John just ignored it and continued.

"I think that's what they've done with your missing guys. Shipped them off to a local reservation, either down south to the Ute reservation or out of Colorado all together.  That’s why the FBI isn’t talking."

"Come on, John.  I've heard some crazy theories from you before, but this just takes the cake."

John nodded in agreement, his eyes back on the mirror, following his daughter, who was now talking to a man at least twice her age. 

"Why don't you talk to Kristen?"

"Your wife has her hands full with
your
three heathens last I heard you talk."

Nathan laughed.  "That she does, but you know she also works with troubled youth.  And she's been worried about you."

John grunted by way of saying he'd think about it and Nathan left it alone.

"So how do we prove your theory?"

"I'm thinking about heading down to the Ute reservation.  Makes the most sense.  Hang out for a few days and see what I can find.  I'll contact you if I see something."

They both stared at the mirror, watching as Melissa made her way from one guy to another.  Nathan decided to push his luck.

"You know my three are off at their grandparents for the rest of the summer and Kristen doesn't know what to do with herself.  Melissa is welcome."

"Thanks.  I'll think about it." 

Throwing back another shot, John stood up and walked to where his daughter was.  Saying something to the man talking to Melissa, John grabbed his daughter by the arm and moved to leave.  The man stepped forward as if to intervene, along with two of his buddies.  Nathan rose, ready to step in, when John said something that made all three men jump back as suddenly as if they had just been hit.

He must have told them exactly how old she isn't,
Nathan thought. 

Shaking his head in commiseration, he sent up a silent prayer of thanks that his children weren't as bad as they sometimes seemed. 

At least not yet,
his ungrateful mind supplied.

Paying the bill, he headed back to his office, wondering what, if anything, John would really find on the remote Ute reservation.