Authors: Arthur Bradley
“I’m a US Marshal. I’m here to help.”
She looked up at him but said nothing.
“Your sister, Trish, sent me to find you.”
She began to sob. “Trish?”
“She’s here. Come on, dear,” he said, extending his hand. “You’re safe now.”
Mason rolled to a stop in front of the Holiday Inn. There were even more cars in the parking lot than when he had left earlier in the morning. Sex really was a thriving business.
“I can’t thank you enough, Marshal,” Trish said, helping her sister out of the truck.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded.
“Tracy’s alive, and that’s all that matters.”
Sheriff Billings pulled up behind Mason’s truck, and Trish waved for him to come over.
“Are you going to be okay?” asked Mason.
She slid back inside the truck and gave him a long warm hug, pressing her body against his.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m good.” She smiled and touched him on the cheek. “Promise you’ll come see me anytime you’re out this way.”
He smiled but said nothing. It was a promise he couldn’t make.
She nodded and kissed him softly.
“Just know that I’m here, cowboy,” she said with a wink.
He nodded. “Thanks.”
They heard Sheriff Billings’ approach and ask Tracy what had happened. Trish slid back out of the cab and gave Mason one final wave.
“Take care, Marshal.”
“You too, Trish.”
Mason put the truck in gear and turned north onto Highway 321. It was still about a hundred and thirty miles to Boone, but if he was lucky, he might be there in time for lunch.
CHAPTER
17
When Tanner and Samantha finally exited the East River Mountain Tunnel, there was no sign of Predator’s men. They didn’t know whether he had been bluffing about some of his men lying in wait, or whether they had run into trouble of their own. All they could say for certain was that they were thankful to find a quiet freeway waiting for them.
They found a Nissan Maxima with a full tank of gas and keys in the ignition parked only a few feet outside the tunnel. Why the owner had abandoned the car was anyone’s guess. Maybe he had thought he would fare better on foot, or maybe he’d been dragged from the vehicle by the beast in the tunnel. Either way, he’d left behind a car that should get them all the way up to Salamanca, and in some measure of comfort too.
Tanner drove down the road, enjoying the feel of the soft black leather against his back. Samantha sat quietly beside him, looking out the window. After a few miles, he was able to steer them onto Highway 19, which would take them all the way up to Pittsburgh, nearly three hundred miles.
Samantha glanced over at him.
“Your eye isn’t as big anymore, but it’s turning black. Does it hurt?”
He gently touched it with his fingers. The soft tissue was sore, but nothing felt broken.
“Nah.”
“I think that’s the first black eye I’ve ever seen,” she said, moving her head from side to side to get a better look.
“A shiner is meant to be worn like a badge of honor.” He slid his fingers up to gently scratch the fishing line used to stitch a wound on his forehead. “At least he didn’t tear my stitches.”
“They look ready to come out,” she said. “The skin’s all puckered around the strings.”
“It’s been nearly a week since that cranky old grandma sewed me up, so I guess it’s probably time.”
“You want me to take them out?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll need some small scissors and maybe some tweezers.”
“We can find those.”
“You sure do get hurt a lot.”
“It’s the life I live,” he said, grinning.
She paused. “Delivering this note was a mistake, wasn’t it?”
The question caught him by surprise.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because of all the trouble we’ve run into—the snake people, those motorcyclists, the creature in the tunnel. It’s been bad from the very beginning.”
“We’d have run into other dangers if we’d gone straight to Virginia.”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Sometimes, you turn left on life’s road; sometimes, you turn right. But once you’ve made that decision, you have to march ahead and push through anything in your way. Never waste time thinking about what it would have been like if you’d taken the other path.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’ll keep you from enjoying the one you’re on.”
“You’re saying that I should focus on where I’m at now?”
“Wise men would call it ‘being in the moment.’”
“And what do
you
call it?” she asked, grinning.
He smiled. “I call it enjoying life.”
“You think we can really enjoy life, even now?”
He looked over at her.
“I don’t know about you, but I’ve had worse days.”
“How can you even say that? You were nearly ripped apart by a... a Backson.”
“Maybe, but it still beats being stuck in a jail cell.”
She sat quietly for a moment.
“I’ve had worse days too,” she said. “One day I went to school with two different shoes on.”
He chuckled. “Now that would be a bad day.”
“You can’t imagine,” she said under her breath.
He looked off to the west. They had maybe two hours of daylight left.
“I’m beat. What do you say we find somewhere to bunk for the night?”
She yawned. “Sure, if you need to rest, that’s fine.”
Up ahead was a sign for the Summersville Lake Retreat and Lighthouse.
“You ever seen a lighthouse?”
“Nope.”
“Want to?”
She shrugged. “I guess.”
He eased off Highway 19 and onto Route 129. Almost immediately, they saw a two-story log cabin gift shop on the right side of the road. A large green canoe sat atop a sign that read,
Cabins, Camping, and Boat Rentals
. Beside the gift shop was a dirt parking lot filled with a long line of boats and camper trailers, and behind those, stood a tall white lighthouse.
Tanner turned into the gravel driveway, pulled past the gift shop, and swung around to park beside the lighthouse. They climbed out and took a look around.
“Pretty cool,” he said, looking up at the tower.
“Very cool.”
Tanner went over and bumped on a small metal door that led inside. It looked barely big enough for him to fit through.
Samantha studied a large metal plaque that sat out front.
“It says here that this is West Virginia’s only working lighthouse.”
He laughed. “Last time I checked, West Virginia doesn’t butt up against any major body of water, so, I’m guessing one is probably enough.”
She read the sign aloud.
“This steel tower stands one hundred and four feet tall, measures twelve feet across at the base, and weighs seventy-seven thousand pounds.” She looked over at him. “Is that heavy for a lighthouse?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. You want to go up inside?” He thumped the door again, wondering how hard it would be to open.
“It also says that you have to climb one hundred and twenty-two steps to get to the top.”
“Like I said, if you want to go up, I’m happy to wait here for you.”
She grinned. “Too many stairs for you?”
“About a hundred and twenty-two too many. What do you say we go check out that store instead?”
She nodded, and they climbed back in the Nissan.
Like nearly every other business in the country, the gift store looked abandoned. The door was splintered along its edge, and there were prybar marks from where someone had forced it open. A set of log stairs led up into the store, and a bulletin board sat out front that showed a map of the campsites, RV parking, and cabins.
“Fewer steps,” she said, grinning.
He cut his eyes at her.
“Come on.”
They grabbed their guns and headed up the stairs. One of the hinges had come loose, and the door leaned out at an angle. Tanner poked his head into the store. It looked empty but stunk something awful. He pulled the door out of the way, and they stepped inside.
Inside, it looked like the aftermath of an earthquake. Racks of supplies were overturned, and packets of freeze-dried food, bottles of water and sports drinks, hiking gear, and an assortment of toiletries were scattered all around the large room. The only thing that spoiled the find was the bloated corpse of a young woman lying on the floor of the store’s small bathroom.
“Lots of good stuff in here,” he said, picking up a backpack. “We should resupply.”
She nodded, holding her nose until she could get used to the stink.
They began rummaging through the piles of supplies. By the time they had finished, they had backpacks stuffed with food, drinks, flashlights, medicine, fresh socks and underwear, toothbrushes and toothpaste, and even some toilet paper. Samantha also found a small fixed-blade knife in a leather sheath, which she quickly attached to her belt.
Perhaps her most useful find, though, was a pair of fingernail clippers, which she used to remove the stitches from Tanner’s forehead. As she snipped and pulled out the last stitch, she sat back and inspected her handiwork.
“Well?” he asked.
“You have little holes in your skin, but at least there’s nothing disgusting oozing out of them.”
He rubbed the scabs with the tips of his fingers.
“Thank you. It feels good to have those out.”
“I’m no expert on head butting, but I don’t think you’re supposed to hit them in them mouth.”
“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I’m fighting for my life.”
“Good.”
He shook his head.
“Do we have to stay here for the night?” she asked, looking over at the corpse.
He studied the store. There were two doors and a dozen windows from which he could see the highway. Unfortunately, that meant that travelers could also see them.
“It’s probably better if we get off the main road a bit,” he said.
“Where should we go? The tower?”
“That would be kind of cool, but being trapped in a narrow metal tube doesn’t sound very tactical. How about we head around to one of the cabins?”
“Camping again?” she moaned.
He lifted his backpack and started for the door.
“One day, you’re gonna remember this as having been the time of your life.”
She followed him out, shaking her head.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not going to happen.”
The Summersville Lake Retreat only had three cabins, and each was nearly indistinguishable from the others. They were built using modern plank siding designed to look like weathered cedar, and topped with green sheet-metal roofs. Long ramps led up to the rustic buildings, making it possible for even those in wheelchairs to easily gain access. All three structures looked new, surely built within the last few years.
Tanner checked all three cabins to make sure they were empty. He didn’t want chainsaw-wielding neighbors paying them a visit in the middle of the night. Samantha insisted that they stay in the cabin furthest in the woods because it was the only one without dead bodies inside.
The cabin had three bedrooms, two with bunk beds and the third with a large, but lumpy, queen-sized mattress. There was also a pullout couch in the main living area. The kitchen and two bathrooms were empty and of little use without electricity or running water. There were, however, several fuel-burning lanterns in the living room, which allowed them to get settled in and enjoy dinner even after dark.
After finishing a meal of potted meat and freeze-dried vegetable soup, Samantha climbed in the bunk bed and fell asleep even before Tanner had time to check the doors and windows. Once he was certain that everything was buttoned up tight, he braced the door shut with a chair and pulled out the couch in the living room. It didn’t take him long to nod off.
When Tanner finally awoke, it was to the sound of Samantha brushing her teeth.
“Are you awake?” she called out, hearing him stirring.
“Unh,” he grunted.
“It’s a beautiful day outside.”
He glanced at the front door. The chair was missing, but the door was still locked.
“You go outside?” he asked, getting up and walking toward the bathroom.
She splashed some water from a bowl onto her face.
“I did.”
“You take your rifle?”
She cut her eyes at him in the mirror.
“What do you think?”
He held back a smile. She was learning.
Tanner pressed around on his ribs with his fingertips. One was very tender, probably cracked. But it wasn’t his first cracked rib and surely wouldn’t be his last. His eye was feeling better, and the swelling was already coming down. He dug out his toothbrush and stood behind her so they could share the mirror.
“You sleep okay?” he mumbled with the brush in his mouth.
“Honestly, I feel like I slept for a week.”
“Good for you.” He spat the foamy paste into the sink and slurped up some of the water that she had poured in the bowl.
“Do you think we’ll make it to Salamanca today?”
“We’ll try.”
“I can almost see that little girl’s face when we tell her how brave her father was. Things like that are important to kids, you know?”
“Uh-huh,” he said, not at all convinced that things would go as well as she hoped.
She gave him a questioning look.
“You don’t think so?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, things never go as planned.”
She pushed by him, a sour expression on her face.
“You’re what my mom would call a eunuch.”
Tanner whipped around. “Bite your tongue, girl.”
“What? It’s a person who always thinks the worst of everything.”
“You sure you got the right word?”
“Yep,” she said, stowing her toothbrush, “and you’re definitely one of them.”
CHAPTER
18
The more President Glass thought about Lincoln Pike’s treachery, the more it felt like a tapeworm was trying to eat its way out of her gut. If General Carr was right, her vice president was not only a traitor, he was also a mass murderer. His deed rivaled those of Saddam Hussein and Bashar al-Assad, massacring his own people using weapons of mass destruction. And for what purpose? To instigate a bloody coup, overthrowing her presidency? She would gladly have traded her post to save even one of those poor souls who had perished.
She was tempted to simply have Pike arrested, immediately, and with as much public fanfare as she could muster. There would be questions of legality, of course, but she could likely pull it off with General Carr’s backing. Whether the arrest would ultimately hold up, however, was another matter. Without hard proof, the vice president might find enough support to force his release and return to power. Hell, he might even have her impeached for what he asserted was an illegal arrest.
The more prudent path was to bide her time until they had gathered enough evidence to build an airtight case. They could set up taps on Pike’s phone, search his computer files, and listen in on private conversations with his close confidant, General Hood. Something would eventually implicate the vice president in his treasonous activity, of that, she was certain. However, despite what General Carr asserted, they couldn’t do it alone. She would need to bring in a few trusted advisors.
She would start with her Chief of Staff, Yumi Tanaka. Next would be the Director of the Secret Service, Jim Robards. She trusted both implicitly, but even more important was the fact that they were in the business of keeping secrets. Robards would undoubtedly have reservations about spying on the vice president, but she felt certain that she could convince him to participate. As for Yumi, she was already privy to a host of sensitive information. President Glass was confident that she wouldn’t object too loudly to helping to coordinate the clandestine activities.
Even just deciding what to do next made her feel better, like she was taking concrete steps to end the madness. It would be Yumi, Robards, and General Carr for now. No one else. She couldn’t afford to take a chance that Pike might get wind of the investigation.
She would need to brief them separately so that she could tailor her delivery. President Glass had learned a long time ago that everyone responded to different stimuli. In Yumi’s case, she thought it would likely be loyalty, and in Robards’, duty. She would also need to let General Carr know of the change in plans.
She picked up her phone and dialed Yumi Tanaka.
Yumi answered on the first ring.
“Yes?”
“I need to meet with you.”
“Yes, ma’am. When?”
“Now, please.”
Yumi seemed surprised. “Is everything all right?”
“Not over the phone. Let’s meet in our special conference room in say, ten minutes?”
“Of course, Madam President. I’ll be there.”
“And Yumi...”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Don’t mention our meeting to anyone—not anyone, okay?”
“I won’t. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine,” President Glass said, heartened by her concern. “But we have something difficult ahead of us, and I can’t afford for anyone to get wind of it.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be right there, and don’t worry, I won’t mention the meeting to anyone.”
President Glass’s next call was to General Carr. After a quick discussion, he too agreed to meet her in the conference room. However, he seemed overly concerned about her decision to include others in their investigation. General Carr was a good man, perhaps a great man, she thought, but he needed to learn to trust.
Yumi Tanaka felt sweat begin to bead along the top of her forehead. What the hell was President Glass up to? Did she know about Yumi and the vice president? No, of course not. She wouldn’t have called to set up a private meeting if she had. What was it then? She was up to something that required secrecy. The fact that Yumi was being called in on it was a good thing. But that inclusion might not be enough to stop events from unfolding in a most unfavorable direction. She had to be prepared for the worst.
Yumi opened the desk drawer and withdrew a small fixed-blade tanto knife. It was wrapped in a piece of colorful rice paper and was designed to look like an exotic gift, easily mistaken as a ceremonial trinket collected during her travels overseas. But the knife was much more than a novelty. The three-inch blade was forged entirely from zirconium dioxide, a ceramic that was harder than steel and invisible to metal detectors. Both edges had been ground with a diamond-dust-coated wheel until they were razor-sharp.
While it was certainly not in her personnel file, Yumi was no stranger to knives. Having spent two years in the Philippines as a teenager, she had learned the right way to handle a blade. She had only cut a person once, and that was a would-be suitor who had forced his hand down her pants. When she opened up his inner thigh, he had come to appreciate the error of his ways.
Yumi carefully slid the paper-wrapped knife into the side pocket of her jacket. She could have it in hand in the blink of an eye. She had no idea what President Glass had in mind, but one thing she knew for certain—she wouldn’t allow any harm to come to Lincoln. Not today. Not ever.
Yumi was already waiting when President Glass entered the conference room. Two Secret Service agents moved past her and carefully searched the room. Once they were satisfied that the President’s Chief of Staff was the only occupant, they left to stand outside the door.
President Glass sat down and pulled her chair close to the table.
“Thank you for coming so quickly.”
Yumi smiled, thinking that President Glass looked tired and old, like a bag lady who begged for quarters outside the subway station.
“Of course, Madam President,” she said. “Please tell me what’s happening.”
“I’m afraid it’s serious.”
Yumi leaned forward, resting her hands on the table.
“It’s also very sensitive,” added the president.
“Ma’am, you can trust me with anything.”
President Glass smiled and patted her on the hand.
“I know that.” She paused for a moment, deciding on how start. “General Carr and I have been investigating a terrible attack on a law enforcement center in Glynco, Georgia.”
Yumi suppressed a smile. This was old news. Lincoln had told already her about the chemical attack, and with great pride. Still, perhaps there was something to be learned. If not, she might at least be able to provide a little misdirection.
“What kind of attack?” she asked.
“Someone bombed the center with sarin gas. They killed hundreds of US Marshals.”
“Why would anyone do that?” Yumi gasped. “For that matter, who would even have access to sarin gas?”
“Those were our questions as well,” President Glass said, nodding. “So, we did some digging. What we found was even more troubling than the attack itself.”
Yumi didn’t like the sound of that. She sat back, slowly withdrawing her hands from the table and placing them in her lap.
“What could possibly be worse than the poisoning of hundreds of peace officers?” she asked.
President Glass looked around the room as if double-checking that they were indeed alone.
“We found a connection between the bombs that were used and someone in the highest levels of our government.”
Yumi felt her heart begin to pound violently against her chest. Just how much did President Glass know?
“Who?” she asked, sliding her hand into her coat pocket.
President Glass leaned over the table and whispered, “It’s Vice President Pike. We think he may be involved.”
Yumi tightened her grip on the knife, pushing the rice paper away from the handle.
“That’s impossible,” she said. “The vice president? Surely, there’s been some kind of mistake. Why would he do something so heinous?”
“General Carr believes his intent is to undermine my presidency.”
Yumi shook her head. “And that would lead him to kill hundreds of marshals? I can’t believe it.”
“I don’t know for certain that Pike orchestrated the attack, but I do know that he’s connected to it.”
“Madam President, I don’t like the vice president any more than you, but asserting something like this could backfire. People might think you’re trying to suppress him because he’s been an outspoken critic of your policies. You could end up looking like a jealous tyrant.”
Even as she made her case, Yumi realized that it didn’t really matter whether or not she was successful in convincing President Glass to abandon her investigation. The vice president would forever be under suspicion, and that would leave him impotent and ineffective.
President Glass took a deep breath, obviously frustrated by Yumi’s unexpected resistance.
“Don’t you think I know that? I wouldn’t suggest it if we didn’t have proof.”
“What kind of proof?” she asked, sliding the knife out of her pocket and holding it beneath the edge of the table.
“We traced the delivery of the bombs back to an acquaintance of Pike’s. It might not be enough to put him away, but it’s too much of a coincidence to ignore. The vice president is involved in this, and by God, I’m going to prove it. That’s why—”
Yumi whipped the blade up and sliced through the side of the president’s neck. The weapon was as sharp as any samurai’s katana, and it slid through her carotid artery with only the slightest resistance. The strike was so quick that, for a moment, President Glass just stared at Yumi in disbelief. Then, with the next beat of her heart, blood sprayed out in a huge fan, covering the table and sprinkling warm drops across Yumi’s face. The president fell back against the chair, her hands clapped over the gash as she tried to stop the flow of blood.