The Loch Ness Legacy (10 page)

If she got out the door, she could make a dash for her rental SUV. But the exit was locked in defiance of fire codes.

Brielle heard pounding footsteps approach and ducked into the ladies room, locking herself in the only stall.

Harvin and Gaither burst into the bathroom. She whipped out her phone and opened the first text on the list. She typed furiously but only got four letters down before Harvin kicked the door open. She hit SEND and dropped the phone behind the toilet as the stall door was bashed in.

Brielle got an elbow into Gaither’s cheek, but Harvin grasped her in a headlock. She thrashed the entire way as they carried her out of the saloon, the old bartender still writhing on the floor as they passed.

When Harris was finished with her briefing, Tyler and Grant escorted her into the elevator and left her to return to the lobby when they got off at the fifth floor. They ambled down the hallway, the silence thick enough to slice with a cleaver. The two of them had been through near-death experiences many times before, but nothing like this. Tyler couldn’t recall a single time when Grant had been sick. The guy treated his body like a temple. Sure, he ate like he was force-feeding a tapeworm, but he also took every natural vitamin and supplement on the market. The idea that his best friend would wither away and die right in front of him was terrifying.

Tyler finally spoke, looking Grant in the face. It had an unusually haggard appearance, with bags under the eyes and crow’s feet at the corners. “How are you feeling?”

Grant wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Never better.”

“You look a little tired.”

“Just some latent jet lag.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. Harris must be wrong. I feel fine.”

Tyler couldn’t shake the sense of loss threatening to return. Although he’d never truly banished it after the death of his wife, Karen, he’d finally been able to absorb it into his being and continue on. But if Grant died, too, it would resurface with a vengeance.

“Maybe we should get you to a hospital,” he said. “Get some tests or something.”

Grant stopped walking and faced Tyler. He looked around to make sure no one could hear them. “I’m not going to a hospital. I’m not sick. Besides, you heard Harris. There’s nothing they can do. I’d won’t lie there waiting for the end. You know me. That’s not how I want to go out.”

“I know. I’m here for you. We all are.”

“Don’t tell anyone else, okay? I’ve seen that look of pity before, and I want no part of it.”

Tyler wanted to say he was sorry for bringing Grant into this ordeal in the first place, but that would only make the situation more uncomfortable.

Tyler nodded his assent and tried to gin up a sunny outlook. “Hey, the doctors might be wrong. Maybe the toxin just affects the elderly.”

They shared a smile to reinforce the optimism, although Tyler didn’t think either of them really believed it. A silent look of agreement passed between them that his condition wouldn’t be brought up again unless Grant were the one to do it.

They continued walking to the last door, where Tyler inserted his card key. They entered a gleaming room filled with the latest computer equipment. Most of the workstations were occupied by men and women hunched in front of the screens, headphones capping their ears.

Several of the people looked up at their entrance, but only one person didn’t go back to work, a lanky man wearing black horn-rimmed glasses. With dark curly hair failing to cover the skull-attached cochlear implant that made it possible for the deaf Irishman to hear again, Aiden MacKenna looked as if Elvis Costello had been assimilated by the Borg.

As he rose, Aiden’s hands flew in fluent sign language. “You wouldn’t believe this new girl I saw today. I’m signing because I don’t want anyone in here to get a jump on her first. I want to see if you know who she is.”

Tyler had grown up with a deaf grandmother, so he’d known sign language since he was a boy, a skill he taught to Grant when they were in the Army together. The fluency had given him an advantage in hiring Aiden when his impressive computer skills were sought after by every consulting firm and software company in town. Aiden was also a self-styled ladies man, something he had in common with Grant.

Tyler signed back. “What does she look like?”

“It’s this hot redhead. I met her in the elevator, but she got off before I could get her name. Looked me over, though. I know she wanted me. And she’s got the most amazing body.“

“That’s not going to happen,” Grant said.

“Don’t tell me that sweet young thing is a lesbian,” Aiden said out loud. “What a shame. Although I’m picturing quite a scene—”

Grant waved his hands to stop Aiden. Tyler, on the other hand, was waiting to hear how far he’d go. Aiden squinted at them and put his hands on his hips.

“Oh, I get it,” he said. “She’s going with one of you. Which one? I bet it’s you, isn’t it, Tyler?” Aiden edged over and nudged him with an elbow, a sly grin on his face. “You lucky bastard. Tell me, is she as good in the sack as—”

“Her name’s Alexa, and she’s my sister,” Tyler said, saving Aiden from putting his foot in his mouth any further. “My baby sister.”

Aiden turned whiter than a polar bear in a blizzard. “God, Tyler, I didn’t—I mean, I had no way of knowing…” He swallowed hard, but the foot wouldn’t go down.

Tyler grabbed his shoulder in a firm grip, just enough to let Aiden know that he meant what he was about to say. “No worries, Aiden. But you can spread the reminder to everyone in this room that I’m an expert in explosives. I can blow up a house and make it look like an accident.” He smiled. “How do you think my sister looks now?”

“Like she’s radioactive.”

“Good! I can see we have an understanding. Now, I need you to help me with something.”

Aiden nodded furiously. “Sure. Whatever you need.”

“Can you get into the FBI database?”

“Absolutely. My military clearance works for Homeland Security, which allows me to access—”

“Okay. I need for you to get me the video of the escape from Pleasant Valley State Prison yesterday. Harris told me the cameras had a couple of good angles of the helicopter.” He handed Aiden a piece of paper with the location of the video. Harris couldn’t give him access, but she let slip where someone might find it if they were inclined to search.

Aiden took it and said, “Done. I’ll put it up on the Previz screen.” He collected his laptop, and the three of them walked into a glass-enclosed side room outfitted with a screen that took up an entire wall. It was where the Gordian engineers did their pre-visualization design work.

“You think we might get an identity on the pilot?” Grant asked.

“The Feds will have a better shot at an ID. I just want to see how it was done. The report said they used quadcopters at the prison.”

“Sounds like the Eiffel Tower MO.”

“Right. There could be some commonalities. If we can spot something unique, it might give us an idea of who busted Zim out.”

The Cessna pilot who’d landed at Harris Ranch had been useless, a dupe who’d been paid five thousand dollars to land there unannounced. Zim was probably planning to kill him as soon as they landed at their final destination.

“Even if we find them,” Grant said, “that doesn’t mean they have an antidote.”

“No, but they might have more of this Altwaffe. If they do and we can find it, maybe the toxicologists can synthesize an antidote.”

When Aiden entered, Tyler stopped talking. He drew the blinds while Aiden launched a video app that was wirelessly linked to the wall display.

“It looks like someone has already synced up the four videos from the different cameras,” Aiden said. “There’s no sound.” The wall screen was filled with a different image of the prison yard in each quadrant.

They watched the prison escape once all the way through, Tyler’s eyes flicking from one image to the next. His cell phone dinged, but he was so intent on watching the video that he ignored it.

There was Zim edging away from the main crowd. The fight starting. The parachute landing. Zim pointing some kind of device as quadcopters freed from the cargo pallet zoomed away and blew up in orange fireballs. The helicopter taking a hit and spewing smoke as Zim climbed in. The helicopter taking off and flying out of frame.

“What happened after this?” Grant asked.

“The helicopter seemed to lose hydraulic control as it reached I-5 and rammed into a cattle truck at the Shell station.”

“How long after the takeoff?”

Tyler understood what Grant was asking. “Not long enough to set down and take off again. Because we know when the escape started in relation to when Harris got the call about it, her phone log let us establish a timeline. Zim’s chopper would have had to move in a straight line nonstop to get from the prison to the place where I spotted it from the highway. There wasn’t enough time for it to set down.”

“Imagine the planning that escape must have taken,” Aiden said, “only to be brought down by a lucky bullet. It had to be a one-in-a-million shot.”

Aiden’s words brought a sour taste to the back of Tyler’s throat. It was
too
lucky. “Aiden, play back the escape again.”

The video started over. Tyler pointed at the item in Zim’s hand. “Look at the way he’s using that device. He points it and clicks, and a second later a quadcopter takes off in that direction and flies right at it.”

“You think it’s a laser?” Grant asked.

“It’s got to be. Someone must have smuggled it in for him. It was the only way for him to indicate where the quadcopters should aim. Presetting the targets would have been too difficult. He needed to guide them in real-time. I’ll have Harris see who could have brought it in for him. A guard or maybe his lawyer.”

“So?” Aiden said.

“You’re exactly right,” Tyler said. “This was obviously a well-planned escape. Down to the minute. He knew when he’d be in the yard and where that parachute was going to land.”

“Shit happens.”

“I’m sure that’s what he wanted the US Marshals to think. Just bad luck for him. Fast forward to the helicopter getting tagged.”

The video sped up until it reached the helicopter landing. Tyler watched as Zim got on. At the same time, smoke billowed from the right side of the chopper, the side away from the view of the closest camera.

“Any idea where that shot came from?” Tyler asked.

“Maybe it’s a guard tower we can’t see,” Aiden said.

“Or a guard who came out one of the prison doors,” Grant added.

“Maybe. But I don’t think so.”

Recognition dawned on Grant’s face as he watched the scene. “That’s not right. I can’t believe I didn’t notice before.” The helicopter spun around as it took off, giving them a good view of where the smoke was coming from: behind the main cabin.

Tyler’s stomach churned as he walked up to the screen and traced the line of smoke. “See that black smoke? It’s coming out of the helicopter a foot below where the engine is. Nothing that would smoke is located there.”

Grant came up next to him. “The helicopter wasn’t damaged by a bullet.”

“They wanted us to believe that helicopter crashed accidentally,” Tyler said and pulled out his phone. “We have to find Alexa before he does.” He dialed her number.

“You mean, that was done on purpose?” Aiden asked.

“It’s literally a smokescreen,” Grant said. “Zim is still alive.”

“Damn,” Tyler said. “I’m getting her voicemail. We need to go get her right now.” Into the phone, he said, “Alexa, when you get this, call me. It’s extremely urgent. And stay out in the open. We’ll meet you at the original Starbucks in a few minutes to pick you up.”

He hung up and brought up the message app to send her an additional warning by text. The first item was a message he hadn’t seen until now, the one he’d absently ignored during the video.

It was from Brielle. A single word.

Help
.

The ancient two-door Blazer SUV tore along the desolate fire road, wind whipping Brielle’s face. She concentrated on concealing her emotions as her eyes flicked between the two captors, Gaither in the driver’s seat directly in front of her and Harvin next to her in the back. They didn’t bother to hide their feelings, eyeing her with a mixture of disdain and lust. They had already established who she really was, so she guessed they couldn’t stand the idea of being white supremacists who were attracted to a Jewish woman.

As soon as they got to their destination, Brielle would be as good as dead. She didn’t want to think what would precede the execution. No way they’d let her go with the info she had. Big Joe and his friends would never confess to seeing her, and the militia compound she’d been trying to find in this operation was still in an unknown location. Her phone was the last link to the outside world, and it was back in the bar. No one would be coming for her.

Brielle gently tested the strength of the rope tied around her wrists behind her back. It was competently knotted but not impossible to remove given enough time. Even if she got it untied, she wouldn’t get very far unless she disabled or killed both of them. Harvin and Gaither were armed with M-4 assault rifles, and she was now unarmed, verified by a thoroughly distasteful pat-down. The only positive development was that her Star of David hadn’t been noticed.

The thick woods on either side of the dirt trail abutted the Mount Baker National Forest, providing their sham militia organization plenty of space to hide its operations. It would take weeks of careful searching to find the compound, and even then these men would kill anyone who trespassed on the property. They called themselves survivalists, but Brielle knew it went much deeper than that. The leaders of this group weren’t planning to survive the collapse of civilization. They were looking to start it.

“Come in Harvin, this is base,” a voice said from Harvin’s spread-spectrum handheld radio, a unit similar to one she’d used as a soldier. When it was set to scrambled mode, the coded radio would provide secure communication. They had to be far out of cell phone range.