Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2) (28 page)

“
Nope. Not up to me. If it was, you'd be laying in a pool of blood with a few extra holes you weren't born with.” They backed themselves out through the heavy hardwood doors.

“
M-M-Mr. Odello...” Hughard looked down at himself, “I think I pissed myself.” Odello looked down at his slacks and realized Hughard wasn't the only one. He was pretty sure he was going to have nightmares about that animal.
My God, that thing was frightening.

Jack and Alité strolled quietly down the corridor, hand in hand, Fritz strolling along behind them. Occasionally they glanced at each other, exchanging smiles, not speaking.

“I thought I told you to stay by the door...”

She glanced at him, cocking her head sideways. “Really? I don't remember that.”

The corner of his mouth curled in a crooked smile. “Say, where did you get that little knife?” She pulled on the bottom of the jeweled pendant hanging around her neck, the blade popping free from inside it. She clicked it back in without saying a word. “Damn, I would've never guessed.” He shook his head laughing. “Shit, I didn't know I married a
badass
...” He looked at her. “Is it wrong that it turns me on? Seriously,” he added, “that's hot...
real hot.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

FT. MYERS BEACH, FLORIDA:
CAN'T LEAVE WELL ENOUGH ALONE

Kyle and Lynette Steele were stunned to see the amount of damage on the beach house. It was obvious some repairs had been made, but it was the most basic of work, the replacement of windows and missing glass, replacement of doors and door frames and general cleanup of debris. But there was no attempt to repair the bullet holes in the walls, kitchen cabinets, counter tops or hardwood floors. Then there were the scorch marks...

When Agent Phil Cooper had relayed the events of the night Lisa departed, as he knew them through official circles, there were still a lot of details left out. Details that were not shared between agencies. In fact, quite a bit of the information he had was unofficial, released to him by connections in other agencies that provided it as a personal favor. And then again, whether considered state secrets, national security or just plain old censorship, some of the
details
were fairly sizable omissions... Like the destroyer-sized UFO that landed on the beach. That while exiting the area, it made a flight of F-16 Vipers look like a gaggle of geese in comparison.

Everyone that Phil talked to was fairly vague about the level of confrontation during the event. An event that as far as the general public was concerned, never occurred at all... Except for those people who lived along the beach and saw it first hand. And certain government figures dressed in black convinced most of them that they didn't really see what they thought they saw. And if they knew what was good for them, they would forget the entire event and never discuss it. With anyone. Ever.

Phil had no idea how to prepare Kyle and Lynette, or even what to prepare them for when they told him they were going to visit the beach house. The total of the event as he related it, was an amalgam of all the bits and pieces he'd received with a little of his own speculation and theory to fill in the sizable blanks. But he was fairly sure the resulting assembly was a pretty close representation of what actually happened.

Being the kind of man Kyle Steele was however, meant that he would be searching for answers to his own questions. And chances were, for better or worse, he would find them. And that worried Phil a little. Government intelligence agencies had a tendency to hold a grudge, protecting their version of the truth like a dog with a bone. These agencies, as many people through the years have discovered, will go to great lengths to discredit anyone challenging them, often ruining the lives of innocent people who cannot combat the sheer magnitude of the government's power. In many cases, this included their own people who had stepped forward to bring the truth to light, only to be buried by the government they had so loyally served.

As far as Phil was concerned, the Steele family had seen a great deal of that wrath already, more than they deserved. And the agencies involved were soundly locked in their self truths, unwilling to allow anything or anyone to jeopardize their carefully fabricated reality. That's where the danger lay. Kyle wanted answers and they didn't want him to find any. Except maybe, the ones they would allow him to find. Because they were still fascinated by the family and what was really happening, they simply couldn't leave it alone.

■ ■ ■

The late doctor Brodermeyer's house never made it onto the real estate market as the surviving family had wanted, the government seizing it under provisions in the RICO Act regarding drug trafficking, links to organized crime and possible terrorism. Because it was shoehorned into the category of ill-gotten gains, the government not only kept the house, but all its contents and Brodermeyer's two cars. Because it was an active investigation, they were under no obligation to release any information to the family.

The two men sitting on Brodermeyer's patio were there because the Steeles had made the drive from Chicago to Ft. Myers Beach and the agency wanted to see what would happen next. Could it be that they were going to leave the same way the girl had? If that were the case, they might get another chance at Jack Steele, though Agent Mooreland had no desire to repeat the events the night the girls were whisked away right out from under their noses. He lost a few friends that night. And the NSA was not used to being on the short end of the stick.

Kyle and Lynette were walking their Black Lab along the water's edge, the waves rolling in from a thunderstorm fifty miles out in the Gulf of Mexico. “Doug, what's with this family? Everybody's got a friggin dog...”

“
Why? You got a problem with dogs, Pete?” Mooreland took a quick peek through the binoculars.

“
No, it just seems a little strange to me.” Agent Whitman sipped a soda, watching the Steeles stroll lazily along the water. They stopped momentarily as Kyle reached into his pocket for his cell phone, answering a call. “Are we recording?”

Doug Moorland nodded, watching through the binoculars, “Yeah, but we're over a hundred yards. Between the distance and the surf, I don't know how much we'll pick up. If it's rough, maybe the guys will be able to pull the audio out with a little enhancement.”

“Hmm, he hung up already, short call. Do we have his number?”

“
I don't think so. There was no push to monitor them... until now.” Doug put the binoculars down and turned back to Whitman, “The house still wired up?”

“
Yeah,” he nodded. “Hey, who's this guy?” Whitman added, motioning toward the beach.

Doug Mooreland swiveled back around and looked through the binoculars. “ He looks familiar, let me think...”

“He's a
big
boy.”

“
Yeah he is. Now I remember, Chase... something or other. He's a firearms instructor. He was the guy the girls went to. Supposed to be a friend of the Steele kid.”

“
What the hell is
he
doing here?”

“
I don't know.” Doug Mooreland pulled his collar forward, “Guys, you got any additional info on this guy?”

There were a few moments of silence before his earpiece chirped. “Chase Holt, single, never been married, twenty-eight years old. Corporal, US Army. Did one tour in Iraq, two tours in Afghanistan. Awarded the Purple Heart on his first deploy in Crapistan... Damn, he got a Bronze Star at the
same time.
Recouped and went back to the sandbox for his
third
tour. He was a SAW gunner. You need to see this action report, Doug... he is a
serious dude.”

“
Anything else?”

“
Uh, yeah. Currently a firearms instructor and security consultant, lives local. Friend of Jack Steele for about six years. That's all of it.”

“
OK...”

“
Did you see the notes on the old man?”

Mooreland shook his head as if the voice in his ear was sitting with him, “No, why?”

“Uh, Doug, this guy is a minor celebrity in the law enforcement community... you sure you want to fuck with him?”

“
Little late for than now, isn't it?” replied Mooreland. “Watcha got?'

“
Over thirty-five years on the Chicago Police Department. A competitive combat shooter on the police pistol team, with near perfect scores. Thirty years in police canine training, ranked as one of the top Master Trainers in the United States and known internationally. He pioneered police drug dogs and training procedures. He's worked with and trained the first dogs for the DEA and he's worked on cases with the FBI...”

“
Fuckin' terrific...”

■ ■ ■

Kyle Steele extended his hand, “Chase, good to see you, how've you been?”

Chase took his hand for a hearty shake. “Good Mr. S, Mrs. S.” He nodded in Lynette's direction. “Did you folks just get in?”

Kyle nodded, “Couple hours ago.”

“
Sorry it took me so long to get back to you, I was in a meeting with a client.”

Kyle waved it off, “No, don't worry about it, we appreciate your time. Thanks for coming out.”

“My pleasure,” replied Chase. “I realize you have questions, but we probably shouldn't talk out here... we have an audience.” he was facing Kyle, looking past him.

“
The two guys behind us on the patio?” asked Kyle, remaining motionless.

“
That would be the ones.”

“
They seem very interested in us,” added Lynette, facing the water, watching the Black Lab slosh about.

Chase nodded, “My guess is they're MIB...”

“MIB?”

“
Men in black. NSA - National Security Agency.” He got them walking toward the house. “Let's get inside. The noise of the surf helps, but we can't counter a parabolic mic if we're in range.”

“
I have a feeling,” started Kyle, “the house might not be safe either. Lisa's message before she left, hinted at bugs.”

“
Count on it,” replied Chase. “But that's OK, I'm a certified exterminator.” He laughed at his own joke as he trotted to his pickup truck parked next to their SUV in the driveway. Retrieving a small black duffel bag, he headed back to them at the front door. Signaling silently for them not to speak, they went inside. The kitchen table and chairs missing, he set the duffel on the kitchen counter and unzipped it, unpacking the contents. He paused, looking at the bullet holes and scorch marks around the room and simply shook his head. Taking out his cell phone, he turned it off and indicated Kyle and Lynette should do the same, before walking through the house and searching for other wireless devices to shut off.

Once he felt that he'd covered all the possibilities of false positives, Chase began sweeping with the electronic bug detector for RF, EM and GPS signals, starting in the garage, watched closely by Kyle and Lynette. Five minutes later, he pulled a GPS tracker off Lisa's little SUV, hidden up between the frame and gas tank.

“OK, this is our safe room for the moment. We can talk quietly out here, there are no bugs, just the tracker on her car, and we have no windows for them to laser.”

“
What are you going to do with it?” asked Lynette.

“
Same as I do with all of them.” He popped the cover off the pager-sized unit and pulled the battery out.. “I add it to my collection.”

“
Do you reuse them?”

“
Sometimes,” he chuckled, “I'll stick it on another vehicle just to mess with whoever is on the other end of one of these things.”

Kyle smirked, “Good one.”

“My favorite is to stick it on a taxi. Let 'em track that,” he laughed.

The rest of the house took several hours and he found at least one bug in each room, and more in larger rooms. The largest one was about the size of a cigarette lighter with a nine-volt battery in it, the smallest the size of a pea with a couple wires protruding out of it to connect to a power source. Chase had the assortment lying on a paper towel on the kitchen counter. “Well, that's all of them.”