Authors: Boyd Morrison
G
rant Westfield tried not to make eye contact as he hustled onto the Bremerton ferry terminal gangway. Disembarking foot passengers were pushing past him before the vehicle ramp was lowered. Even though Tyler’s car was at the stern of the ferry and would offload last, he had only a few minutes to get there before the crew would be looking for the driver.
Tyler had called Grant from the ferry and told him that he had an emergency. He needed Grant to drive his Viper off the ferry, then look for a truck that said
SILVERLAKE TRANSPORT
on the side. Tyler wouldn’t elaborate on the reason for the strange request, but he had made it clear that his life depended on Grant’s help. Grant agreed without hesitation, walking the short distance from the naval base to the ferry landing. He couldn’t wait to hear the explanation.
Grant passed a crewman watching passengers go ashore. He thought the man hadn’t noticed him, but he got only ten feet before he heard a yell behind him.
“Hey! Hey! We’re not boarding yet.”
Well, that didn’t work, Grant thought as he stopped. Not that he was surprised. No matter how small he tried to make himself, he wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. Difficult to ignore a six-foot-tall, 260-pound bald black guy.
Normally he liked the attention, but sometimes, like now, it didn’t pay off. Time for some charm. And lying.
Grant turned and saw a skinny white guy in his thirties with long brown hair and a couple of tattoos peeking out over the collar of his shirt, tagged with the name Jervis. Grant gave Jervis a huge smile.
“Oh, I’m not going to Seattle,” he said. “I just came from there. I left my bag on the seat.”
“I didn’t see you get off.”
“That’s funny. I’m usually hard to miss.”
Jervis raised his eyebrows as if he agreed. “What color is your bag? I’ll have somebody bring it to you.”
Great. The helpful type.
“Don’t bother,” Grant said. “I know where it is. It’ll just take me a minute.”
“All right.” Grant breathed a sigh of relief. “But I better see your ticket.” So much for the sigh of relief.
Grant patted his pockets as if he were trying to find it. “I must have left it in my bag.”
Jervis scrunched his face, deciding what to do. “It’s against the rules to let anyone on without a ticket. They’re pretty strict these days.”
Time was running short before they’d start asking questions about why Tyler’s car was still on the ferry, so Grant resorted to a tactic he loathed: pulling out the celebrity card to get something he wanted.
“Actually, the bag has some important mementos in it from my days as a pro wrestler. Don’t know if you’re a fan, but I used to be called the Burn.”
Jervis studied Grant’s face. Then his eyes widened in recognition. Grant had seen the transformation many times before. People’s entire demeanor changed once they realized they were in the presence of a celebrity. Grant understood. He still talked about the time he ran into Britney Spears at a Starbucks even though he’d rather be set on fire than listen to her music.
“Right, man!” Jervis said. “I remember you. Grant Westley.”
“Right.” Grant didn’t want to embarrass him by correcting the error. When Jervis recounted the meeting to his friends later, they’d tell him it was Westfield and give him crap for it. It was enough that the crewman had heard of him.
“You left it all behind to join the Army. Rangers or special forces. There was a great article about you in
Sports Illustrated
a few years back.”
Grant didn’t get stopped by fans nearly as much as he used to, but he probably would if he still had the dreadlocks he wore at the height of his fame. He’d left professional wrestling to join the military after 9/11, but a knee injury he got in combat meant that trying to resurrect his pro career after he got out wouldn’t work. He sometimes missed the cheering crowds, and his notoriety occasionally came in handy.
“I swear I’ll only be a minute,” Grant said.
Jervis looked around and waved him in. “You’re fine. Go ahead.”
“Thanks.” Grant waved back and jogged up the gangway. He made his way down the stairs through the now empty ferry. When he got to the vehicle deck, the last of the cars were just driving off.
The only car left was a cherry-red Dodge Viper. A crewman next to it was looking around. Grant ran up to him.
“This yours?” the man said. “I was just about to call the tow truck. Be a shame with a car as nice as this.”
“Sorry I’m late,” Grant said to the man as he opened the driver’s door. “Bad time for a bathroom break.”
He opened the glove box and found the keys Tyler had left for him. He started the car and roared out of the ferry.
Tyler was waiting for him two streets over in the
SILVERLAKE TRANSPORT
truck. Grant pulled up along the driver’s side. Tyler leaned through the window.
“We can’t get out, partner. Orders.”
“We?”
A beautiful blonde peeked her head around. Grant shook his head. He definitely wanted to hear what that was about.
“Your friend can’t drive a stick?” Grant asked.
“We’re supposed to stay in the truck,” Tyler said. “Just follow us, but not too close.”
“What the hell is going on?”
With his hands out the window, Tyler quickly signed to Grant.
The truck has eyes and ears. No calls.
Tyler’s deaf grandmother had taught him American Sign Language, and he in turn had taught it to Grant during their stint together in the Army.
Grant nodded, but he had no clue why the truck was bugged. He shook his head and put the Viper into gear to follow.
Tyler drove off, and Grant stayed a respectful distance behind. The rain that until now had only threatened started coming down in a patter that rippled on the Viper’s cloth roof.
For thirty minutes, they drove south and west, eventually turning onto a gravel road. A rotted wooden sign read
STILLAGUAMISH STONEWORKS
. In less than a minute, the road ended at an abandoned quarry partially filled with water. Tyler stopped the truck at the edge of the pond.
Grant parked, flipped his rain hood up, and got out. He was halfway to the truck when Tyler and his new friend exited the cab.
“Ready to tell me what this is about?” Grant said as he approached.
Tyler waved him back. He had what looked like a canvas sack under his arm. The woman next to him didn’t seem to care about the rain drenching her.
“We’re leaving,” he said. “Pop the trunk.”
Grant hit the button and followed Tyler, who laid the item down carefully.
“What is that?”
Tyler threw the canvas aside to reveal a shiny bronze device. Grant recognized it immediately.
“Isn’t that the geolabe you built?”
“Yup.”
“Now I’m really curious.”
“I’ll explain on the way.” Tyler closed the trunk.
“You want to drive?” Grant asked. The Viper had only two seats. One of them was going to have the woman on his lap.
Tyler squinted at Grant’s bulk and shook his head. “You better.” Tyler turned to the woman. “Sorry, but it looks like it’s you and me.”
The woman brushed Tyler’s apology aside. “To get away from that bomb? Are you kidding? Get in. I’ll try not to crush you.”
No chance of that, Grant thought as he eyed her tiny frame.
They piled into the cramped cockpit, the woman perched on Tyler’s legs. Once they were seated with the doors closed, Grant turned to Tyler. “Did she just say ‘bomb’?”
“I couldn’t tell you on the phone,” Tyler said, “but there’s enough binary explosive in that truck to jump-start a volcano.”
While Grant processed that bit of news, he turned the Viper around and sped toward the exit. Tyler tapped the screen on his cell phone and put it on speaker. After one ring, a man answered.
“Are you in your car with Grant Westfield?” the man said, to Grant’s surprise. “I knew you’d get him involved at some point anyway, so I thought he should join in the fun.”
Grant shot Tyler a pointed glance, but Tyler put up a hand that said, “I’ll tell you later.”
“He followed me to the quarry just like you instructed. And we disconnected the geolabe from the bomb.”
“Drive back to the ferry. I’ll take care of the truck.”
“Why are we going back to the ferry?” Tyler asked. “Another bomb?”
“No,” the voice on the phone said. “Just that one.”
As they reached the quarry’s sign, Tyler said, “Before we go anywhere else, I want to—”
A tremendous blast shook the car. All three of them ducked instinctively. Grant mashed the pedal to the floor, throwing a plume of gravel behind him. In the rearview mirror he saw a cloud of black smoke that was already being dissipated by the pouring rain. The sound of the explosion would have been heard for miles, but no one would be able to tell where it came from. It might even be mistaken for a crack of thunder, though lightning storms were rare in the Pacific Northwest.
Grant kept driving. There was no reason to stop and go back to the truck. The only thing they’d see was tiny pieces. He wouldn’t be surprised if the whole truck had been blown into the water.
“What the hell is wrong with you, you maniac!” the woman shouted.
“Good,” the voice said. “You’re still alive.”
“Your concern is touching,” Tyler said.
“Do you think that explosion would have been big enough to sink the ferry? Be honest.”
“Yes. What’s your point?”
“So, Locke, if that’s what I was willing to do to a boat full of innocent people, imagine what I’m willing to do to your father.”
T
yler looked at Grant and saw the same flash of alarm on his face that he felt in his gut.
“What does that mean?” Stacy said.
“Now to your mission—” Orr continued.
Tyler hung up. He had to warn his father, but the certainty in the caller’s voice made him fear that he was already too late.
He found his dad’s number and called. The phone was answered on the second ring.
“Dad, it’s Tyler—”
“Nope,” Orr said. “I thought you’d be calling, so I had my colleagues forward his phone to mine.”
Tyler gripped the phone so hard that he nearly crushed it. “If you hurt my father in any way, my mission will be to hunt you down and drain the life out of you one drop at a time.”
“Yes, you’re upset, but I’m not going to harm him unless you decide not to help me. Or if you call the FBI.”
“Do you have any idea who you’ve kidnapped?”
“Of course I do, because I’m not a grade-A moron. Major General Sherman Locke is newly retired and looking for work, so he’s not going to be missed right away by anyone but you.”
Tyler thought about that and knew he was right. If Sherman had still been in the Air Force, the Pentagon would have contacted the FBI within hours of his disappearance, not least because he was a military officer with access to top-secret information. But out of the military he was just another civilian who was free to do as he pleased. If he took off without telling anyone where he was going, that was his business.
“How do I know he’s all right?” Tyler asked.
“He’s unavailable to talk at the moment because he’s being taken to a secure location, but when he’s safe and sound, I’ll send you verification that he’s fine.”
“What do you want?”
“First, put the phone back on speaker. Stacy should hear this, too.”
Tyler switched it on. “Go ahead.”
“I did what you asked, you bastard!” Stacy yelled. “Now you hold up your end of the bargain!”
“I’m not letting your sister go just yet,” Orr said.
Tyler and Grant looked at each other in confusion, then at Stacy.
“Sister?” Tyler said.
“Good. Stacy followed her instructions and didn’t tell you about Carol. For that, Stacy’s sister will get to keep all her fingers.”
“No! You let her go!”
“Not so fast,” Orr said. “Now that you’ve passed your test, I have a mission for you.”
“What mission?” Tyler asked.
“I want you to find the location of the Midas Touch for me.”
Tyler wasn’t sure what Orr meant. “Is that the code word for something?”
“No code word. No metaphor. No brand name. I mean the actual Midas Touch that can turn objects to gold.”
Grant snorted in disbelief. Tyler could only gape. That was about the last thing he would have guessed Orr was going to say. Tyler thought the kidnapping was going to be about paying a ransom or maybe even using his top-secret clearance to gain access to government files.
But the Midas Touch? It was ridiculous. Everyone knew it was a myth about the corrupting power of greed. King Midas was given the wondrous ability to turn anything he touched into gold, which he initially thought was a blessing. But when his feast of celebration became inedible at his touch, Midas realized that this talent was a curse. He begged the gods to rid him of it, and they did, but not before he accidentally turned his own daughter into gold.
“Say that again,” Tyler said.
“You heard me right,” Orr said. “The Midas Touch. The two of you are going to find it, or your father and Stacy’s sister are dead. If you find it, I’ll make a trade with you.”
“Are you serious?”
“Deadly. I promise you that the Midas Touch does in fact exist.”
“Okay,” Tyler said slowly. He was already wondering how he could give the impression of going along with this wild-goose chase while figuring out how to find his father.
“I’ve seen it for myself, and I can prove it to you.”
“If you’ve seen it, why do you need us to find it?”
“That’s a story better told in person. Meet me at 1 p.m. outside the southwest corner of Safeco Field and I’ll tell it to you. Just you and Stacy. No police and no Westfield, or both your father and her sister are gone.”
The Viper’s clock read 10:10. There had to be a ferry back to Seattle before noon.
“We’ll be there,” Tyler said. He hung up and closed his eyes, trying to absorb the news of his father’s abduction. He concentrated on breathing, because it felt as if he’d had the wind knocked out of him.
They were all quiet for a moment until Grant broke the silence.
“By the way, I’m Grant Westfield,” he said. “I’ll be your chauffeur back to the ferry today.”
He held his hand out to Stacy, who gave it a firm shake. “Stacy Benedict.”
“Yeah, you’re from
Chasing the Past.
I didn’t recognize you at first.”
“Thanks for picking us up.”
“Anything for Tyler. But would you mind telling me why some lunatic just blew up a truck you were driving?”
Tyler explained about the puzzle to deactivate the bomb, that it was some kind of test to prove to Orr that they could carry out his insane quest.
“And how did he know my name?” Grant said. “Who is this guy?”
“You met him once. His name is Jordan Orr.”
“Wait a minute. The guy who hired you to build the geolabe?”
Tyler nodded. “And I’m guessing Stacy knows him, too.”
“Only since this morning,” she said. “I was in town for a fund-raiser, and I get a call that my sister, Carol, was kidnapped. All he told me was to get on the ferry and not to tell you about her or he would hurt her.”
Tyler dug his fingernails into his palms until the knuckles were white. He’d never been angrier in his life than he was at that moment. If he had known about Stacy’s kidnapped sister, he might have been able to warn his father in time. Tyler wanted to yell and scream and pound his fists against the dashboard. But it was Orr he wanted to throttle, not Stacy. She was as much a pawn in this as he was.
Tyler shook his head and took a deep breath until the moment passed.
“It’s good we decided not to talk in the truck with Orr listening in,” he said to Stacy. “We’re going to have to be very careful dealing with him.”
She turned to him, and Tyler saw her face etched with fear. “Just promise me that my sister will be all right. I know you can’t really promise that, but do it anyway.”
Tyler nodded. “I promise. We’ll find a way to get them both back safely.”
“There’s something I want to know,” Stacy said. “If you built that device, the geolabe, how did Orr get hold of it?”
“I was approached by Orr last year, after Miles twisted my arm to go on your show. I mentioned on the program that I had an interest in Archimedes. Orr showed me a translation from an ancient Greek document with instructions for building an object called a geolabe and told me it was from a private collector. It sounded like an intriguing job, so I said yes.”
“And you weren’t suspicious of this mysterious request?”
Tyler nodded. “Mildly, but the project seemed harmless enough. I had one of my guys, Aiden MacKenna, look into the documents to see what he could find, just out of curiosity. Nothing came up. It wasn’t until a month after I delivered the completed project that Scotland Yard released a long-lost photo of a manuscript page that matched my document verbatim. Only then did we realize that it had been stolen.”
“Did you report it to the police?”
“Yes, but by that time Orr had been tipped off and disappeared.”
“How long did it take you to build this thing?”
“About three months,” Tyler said. “Without Gordian’s engineering resources, it would have taken a lot longer to decipher the schematics.”
“That doesn’t make sense, though,” Stacy said.
“Why?”
“Because if he blew up the ferry, the geolabe would have been destroyed along with it. Why did he risk losing something that would take so long to build again if we couldn’t solve that puzzle?”
Tyler’s skin prickled at the thought of how close they had been to becoming permanent denizens of Puget Sound.
“Orr must have decided that you and I were the only people on the planet who could solve the Archimedes puzzle, so if we failed the geolabe was worthless to him. Now that he knows we can operate it, we’ve become indispensable to him. We’re a package deal along with the geolabe.”
“This is crazy,” Stacy said.
Tyler shook his head at the colossal understatement. “Which part? That Orr thinks the Midas Touch exists or that he thinks Archimedes constructed a device that will lead us to it?”