Flee the Night (32 page)

Once Hillman got the program, even if she had made another copy, it wouldn’t matter. The government didn’t have anything stronger than Ex-6. It was like knowing the enemy could read your thoughts, despite the fact you could read theirs.

“Let’s go,” she said and buttoned her jean jacket.

“Not yet.” Conner motioned to the group. “We have to pray.”

Lacey sighed and braced herself.

“Lord, we’re aware that You are still at the helm, even though we’re in this dark place. We ask for Your light to shine.

Reveal the one who is behind this nightmare. Guide Lacey’s steps. Bring Micah home safely. And, Lord, please protect Ex-6. In spite of Lacey’s intentions, we also know her desire is not to betray. Protect us, O Lord.”

“Amen,” Lacey whispered, feeling unexpectedly shaken by Conner’s words. It unnerved her how she ached for them to see fruition.

Lacey gathered her sleeping daughter in her arms a final moment and kissed her on her forehead. “I love you, Em.”

Andee touched Lacey’s shoulder. “I promise to take good care of her.”

Lacey nodded, feeling once again like a poor excuse for a mother.

As night pushed through the trees, they wound through the lower Ozarks of Mark Twain National Forest. Lacey went with Conner, Dannette and Sarah rode together, and Hank drove alone, pulling his four-wheeler. They made a lonely procession, their lights scraping the dark and foreboding forest. Lacey held on to the armrest, feeling her nerves strum in the silence. She fought an overwhelming urge to pray as Conner’s words echoed in her head.

They rolled up to the trail entrance, Conner’s lights pushing back the grip of forest. Conner checked her equipment, tested the GPS and the video feed. “Remember, line of sight. Don’t go into the cave unless you have to. And don’t let him take you anywhere.”

Lacey nodded and tightened her grip on her cell phone. She’d checked the signal, saw that it had weakened to a blip.

When Hank handed her a tiny mag light he said nothing, but his eyes spoke concern. She liked him—despite his teasing of Sarah. The fact that he’d befriended them and made them feel like he could be an ally, regardless of his role as forest protector, made her wonder what his future might be with this team. He’d even purchased the round of pizzas they’d inhaled for dinner.

Lacey checked her pocket. The rabbit’s foot sat snugly inside, clipped to an inner ring. Hopefully it would be enough to barter for Micah’s life. When it was over, she’d ditch the GPS and take off. Her heart ached at the emptiness that threatened to consume it. She’d left instructions to deliver Emily back to Janie and written her daughter a letter of apology. Maybe … when Emily had grown up, she’d understand why her mother couldn’t face life in Leavenworth. Then again, her future felt like a dungeon.

She climbed on the four-wheeler and gunned it up a wide hiking trail through the forest. The waning moon filtered through the trees, slivered the path with fractured light.

Andee had marked the map with red marks and packed it in a Ziploc. Lacey took it out, shined the light over it. She remembered Hank’s words. If she took another entrance, she might be able to sneak up on …

Yeah, and wasn’t that what happened in Kazakhstan? She hadn’t stayed behind, like John had asked. She’d tried to sneak up on the meeting and surveil it for evidence, hoping to fortify John’s suspicions and keep him safe. She’d only gotten nabbed. And her husband killed.

Perhaps she should just stick to the plan. After all, if Micah had been able to drop off the fake Ex-6 the first time around, maybe he wouldn’t be wounded and traded like cash.

No, he’d be dead. And Emily would still be in Hillman’s claws. Lacey had no doubt it was Micah’s quick thinking and sacrifice that had won her back her daughter. She owed it to him to save his life. If she could.

Lacey stopped the four-wheeler, got off, and cut off the path into the forest. Ten minutes later, she found the chert entrance. Drawing her breath for courage, she glanced at her watch: 9:45.

She ducked and entered the cave, hoping that it would lead to truth. She ignored the fear radiating at the back of her chest and strode into the cleft of rock. The crack in the earth opened just enough for her to walk upright. Even then, she had to dodge outcroppings. Above her, the crack converged, tightened. It didn’t escape her that the farther she walked, the tighter the opening became. Hank’s words hung in her mind like a cobweb:
“The cave is intertwined with tunnels and nooks.”
She’d taken that to mean it would intersect with her destination.

Had it not been for her flashlight, the darkness would have suffocated her. She felt it close in, held at bay by only the thin swath of luminescence. She took out her compass to compare it with the topo map. The smell of must and the cold emanating from the limestone surface prickled her skin as she confirmed her direction. Yes, the tunnel should connect with the main entrance. Well, maybe.

As the tunnel closed around her like a cocoon, she wondered if she’d traded cunning for common sense.

For Micah’s life.

She dropped to her knees as the tunnel suddenly plunged to knee height. The tunnel ran five or so feet, then opened. She scrambled through, layering her hands and her legs with filth.

She flicked off her light when she emerged into a cavern. Climbing to her feet, she listened but heard nothing, and in the absolute night she saw nothing. She turned on her flashlight and ran it over the void. Stalactites plunged from breathtaking heights; the smell of standing water pinched her nose; and a stilled, mildewed breath, frozen in time, filled the space. She heard her thundering heartbeat and staggered under the immensity of the room that could house the Astrodome. She felt tiny. Insignificant. Overwhelmed.

Sweat trickled down her neck. She fought her racing breath. This was a bad idea. Again, her impulses would cost the man she loved his life, like they had in Kazakhstan. She reached out as her legs went weak. She felt something move beneath her hand and pulled back. Some sort of reptile scurried under a rock in the beam of the flashlight.

She shivered as she pulled out her map. Choices lay before her. Picking her way through the cavern, hoping to find an entrance on the other side. Or following the wall and veering east at the first possible tunnel.

She ran her hand over the rock while she moved along the edge, her heart leading the way. Suddenly the wisdom behind the kidnapper’s choice as a drop point made perfect sense. If he killed her—or Micah—in the caves, their bodies would decay before anyone found them—if ever. It made for a convenient and easy burial ground. Especially these wild caves that might never be explored. The thought strengthened her step. Surprise was her only ally.

She found an entrance behind a rockfall, had to drop to her knees to follow it. Holding her flashlight in her mouth, she scampered through the wormhole, pulling herself through the last five feet on her stomach.

The sound of soft voices made her pause. Holding her breath, she heard the static of a radio, an answering call. She checked her watch: 10:03. Had it been only eighteen agonizing minutes? She flicked off the light, stuck it in her pants, then crawled forward.

She emerged in the gray dusk produced by the sphere of a radiant lithium light in a small cavern. Lacey crept up behind a rock and peered over.

Micah was propped against one wall. Tape covered his eyes and lashed his hands behind his back. He was badly hurt, but she saw anger in the set of his jaw.

Probably because the man across from him was laughing. “She’s left you to die, just like she did her husband.”

Micah faced straight ahead, but a muscle twitched in his jaw.

Lacey felt sick. She closed her hand over the rabbit’s foot in her pocket, suddenly believing in luck.

No. Something more than luck.

Help me, Lord
, she thought, trying not to flinch.
For Micah’s sake.

“She’s late. You’d better hope she’s not trying to double-cross me. Because, ploy or not, I have no trouble killing you. Just to remind her that I don’t leave a trail.”

Lacey’s heart raced in shock. Roland Berg! John’s handler. She crept back, and her foot sent a flurry of stones skittering along the cave floor.

Roland turned and flashed his light toward her.

She ducked but her heartbeat thudded, betraying her in her ears.

“You’re there, aren’t you, little lucky penny? I knew you’d come. Just like you came for John.”

Lacey held her breath.

Footsteps. Then the
cha-ching
of a handgun chambering a round. “Come here, Penny. Or the great Jim Micah dies.”

Micah felt as if he’d been drilled about thirty times in the chest. He fought through a web of pain as he imagined Lacey rising from whatever hiding place she’d secured, raising her arms, and glaring at his captor.

“Somehow I should have guessed that you were behind this,” Lacey said, her voice hard. “You’ve been feeding Hillman my information for years, haven’t you?”

“Lacey, you have debts to pay. Yes, Hillman Oil needs your Ex-6 system, but Frank doesn’t have the brains to see the big picture. This is about more than just decoding secrets.”

Micah raced to grasp the meaning of the words and identify the speaker. Again, the familiarity of the voice throbbed in the back of his mind. Where had he heard it before?

“I think it’s time for the truth, Berg.”

Berg? As in
Roland
Berg? NSA deputy director? Micah felt ice rush down his spine. Lacey had been dead-on to suspect the NSA. Except why did Roland kidnap her daughter? Unless this wasn’t NSA business.

Micah felt the blunt end of the pistol dig into his temple. He heard Lacey’s breath catch, the shuffle of feet, before she spoke. “I have what you want. Don’t hurt him.”

“Funny, we’ve been here before, haven’t we? And again, I caught you before you could tape my meeting and turn me in.” He made a
tsk
ing noise, then paused. “Come here.” His voice turned hard. “Closer.”

Micah tensed, hearing Lacey’s feet move against the rocky floor.

“Raise your arms.”

“Keep your hands off me,” Lacey said, but Micah heard her quick intake of breath and felt ill at the scenes that played in his imagination.

“You still can’t follow the rules, can you?” A sharp slap made Micah jump.

Micah heard something tinny drop to the cave floor, then the crunch of metal.

“Who’s listening to our conversation, Lacey?”

“No one. That was a gift from a friend.”

Micah heard the static of the radio, then Berg’s voice. “Come back, Shin. She’s here.”

“And here I thought you worked for Hillman,” Lacey continued. “Turns out he works for you.”

“Everyone works for me, honey.”

Micah heard Lacey’s voice sharpen with accusation. “My e-mail wasn’t intercepted by Ishmael Shavik back in Kuwait. You sent him.”

“John was always too cocky for his own good—and yours. I’m surprised that you didn’t catch on to him years before. You really don’t believe all those out-of-country trips were on company business, do you?”

Micah gritted his teeth, seeing behind his blindfolded eyes the pain flashing in Lacey’s eyes, but her voice was surprisingly calm. “John loved me in his own way.”

Director Berg laughed. “Well, you may be foolish at love, but at least you’ve got brains where it counts. Where’s Ex-6?”

Micah leaned back against the wall, felt for a sharp rock, and began sawing at the tape binding his wrists.

“No wonder you squashed the investigation on Hillman. You knew he wasn’t at the helm.” She gasped. “You killed his daughter, didn’t you?”

“Hillman didn’t take me seriously. He set fire to his business, thinking I might believe that all the gasification plans were destroyed. But I’m not that stupid. Hillman is a visionary, and even if he can’t implement the plans in America, there are plenty of other countries who will overlook environmental havoc for hard cash. I knew Hillman would re-create his program. The money was just too enticing. You see, nothing escapes my vision.”

“John trusted you.”

“Yes, and that made his death that much more painful. It is so much easier to manipulate those who trust. But you aren’t that easily fooled. That’s why you tried to surveil my meeting, right?”

“I was trying to save John’s life and catch a traitor.” Her acrid tone echoed in the chamber.

Micah freed his hands and slowly turned them, ripping off the tape.

“I’m no traitor. I’m a patriot—loyal to my own interests.” Berg gave a huff of scorn. “You should know better than anyone that you have to look out for yourself or you’ll get burned. I learned that too well after my daughter died. She languished for months in agony while I tried to save the very people who refused to let me rush to her bedside. She died without seeing her daddy. He was off fighting an unseen war, so that Americans could keep their fists on their cash.” Micah heard a flint of pain in his voice. “The only real patriots are those protecting their own skin.”

“No. There are people willing to fight for the things they believe. People like our soldiers overseas, standing in the gap for freedom. People like Micah and his friends, the ones who risk their lives for others.”