He wasn’t convicted, though, and was allowed to return home.
All of this led Winters to the incredible, if not slightly far-fetched theory, that Meriwether Lewis had a secret, something he’d discovered along his journey. But what?
Still, Winters didn’t think much of it other than believing Lewis had something to hide. He’d given up his search for a magical artifact that could make his navy invincible. The Lewis story was simply an object of fascination for him.
That is, until he found the letter.
Admiral Winters’s clearance level allowed him access to certain archives 99 percent of the population couldn’t see or weren’t even aware existed.
The letter was written from Thomas Jefferson to President James Madison. In it was an encoded message from Meriwether Lewis regarding something he’d discovered on his journey west. What he’d found and where it was, precisely, were not detailed in the message. What was laid out was the fact that Lewis was absolutely terrified of it.
He only described it as “the anomaly,” saying that it was something covered in strange markings that looked like they could be letters or words, but in a language unlike anything he’d ever seen before.
If it had been in one of the Native American languages, Lewis would have recognized it immediately. Or surely, he would have asked Sacagawea’s opinion on the matter.
That led Winters to the next bizarre piece of the Lewis discovery. It seemed Captain Lewis didn’t tell anyone else from his expedition. How he managed to keep such a secret, or any secret for that matter, was a mystery, but more important than the how was the why.
What would lead Lewis to keep something from one of his closest friends and the group he’d grown to love and trust over the course of their long journey? The answer was simple, at least to Winters. Meriwether Lewis had found something terrifying. It was the only solution that made sense. And if it frightened this hardened military man that had traversed the entire country and endured extreme hardships, that meant it was likely something very powerful.
Maybe Winters was making a huge jump to that conclusion. Perhaps he was getting senile. He shrugged off that thought. He was still young, still had his wits about him. Digging for an answer, maybe, but he wasn’t crazy.
He pored over the clues in the letter, which led him to search for other documents relating to the Lewis and Clark expedition. It was then that he discovered the letter from James Madison. It had been hundreds of hours into his exploration of the Library of Congress before he found it, but when he did, it had changed everything.
Winters took photos of it, made copies, and secured them in his personal office in his home, locking them in a safe in case anyone considered rifling through his things when he was out.
As it turned out, a home invasion likely wouldn’t have mattered. A burglar would have never been able to figure out the riddle buried in the paragraphs of the Madison letter. Winters had spent more hours than he could recount trying to unravel the coded message, but in the end, he’d failed to figure it out.
As luck would have it, he knew of someone who specialized in that sort of thing. He’d heard of the IAA through the news and social media channels. Tommy Schultz and his friend Sean Wyatt had a knack for taking apart riddles such as Madison’s and had made quite a name for themselves through the years. Winters couldn’t simply reach out to them about this one. He would need Schultz and Wyatt to work on this without them ever knowing who was behind it.
After all, were they to succeed, he couldn’t have them knowing what it was he wanted to find and why he wanted it. For this mission, he’d have to use leverage. But where to get it?
Fortunately, Wyatt had made his fair share of enemies over the years, and one in particular stood out during Winters’s investigation into the man.
Andrew Boyd had been kicked out of the United States military, his family plunged into ruin, and Boyd personally lost everything. All due to Sean Wyatt’s testimony. Winters knew Boyd would do whatever it took to get back at Sean Wyatt. Gradually, the plan began to formulate in the admiral’s mind. He could use Boyd to get to Wyatt, and Wyatt would figure out the riddle embedded in Madison’s letter.
That was the plan anyway, but there had to be a way to get Wyatt’s attention.
Winters could have gone after Wyatt’s wife, Adriana, but she was difficult to locate. Schultz would have been a good option, but not for the overall plan.
Then there was Boyd. Winters knew that if he truly wanted to get Boyd on board, he’d have to dangle an extra carrot in front of him. Winters could sell Boyd on the idea of revenge, but he’d need to make extra certain that Boyd understood he was all in on the plan.
That’s when he came up with the idea to kidnap the former president. Once the deed was done, Winters was happy to leak information to the Feds so they could begin their manhunt. The search for Wyatt had to be timed precisely; do it too soon and Wyatt wouldn’t be able to find what he was looking for. Once Wyatt had the letter in his possession, Winters loosed the dogs.
He knew Boyd would be pleased at seeing everything come undone in Wyatt’s life. Winters didn’t care about any of that. They were all just cogs in his machine now, each serving a purpose no matter how small or how large.
Now things were set in motion.
Winters sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers, watching the television screen as the news outlet continued coverage of the bizarre disappearance of the former president.
Soon, Admiral Winters would find out whether or not there was truly something to the Madison letter. He didn’t dare get his hopes up, at least not too high, but there was something deep down in his gut that told him this path was going to lead to what he’d been hoping for for so long.
15
Asheville, North Carolina
Adriana closed the car door and stepped out into the cold. A few patches of melting snow dotted the ground along the driveway. More coated the treetops, especially high up on the mountain behind the mansion situated at the base of the slope.
Her father had been right about this Lawson character. The home was a palace. From the looks of it, it had to be over eight thousand square feet. The exterior was white brick with black shutters and a matching roof. The guard house at the base of the driveway mimicked the color scheme and was protected by brick walls and black wrought iron fencing.
The black, cast iron gate swung open from two points—if a visitor was, in fact, to be allowed inside. That, it seemed, was going to be the trick.
Two guards—one white and one black, both muscular—stepped out of the guard house, pulling down black trench coats tight over their shoulders to keep away the chill. They were wearing chrome aviators, either to give them a more imposing look or to keep out the sunlight. Since the sky was overcast, Adriana figured it was the psychological reason.
“Hello,” she said in her best flirty voice. “I’m here to see Tyler.”
She strode toward the gate with a saunter that accentuated her hips.
“Mr. Lawson doesn’t accept visitors.”
She pretended to look hurt as she neared the gate. “Oh, that’s not true. He has visitors all the time. There are the parties he throws. Then there are the dates. Of course, I won’t get into the guests he pays to show up.”
Adriana had done her research. Tyler Lawson was a playboy in every sense of the word. He’d come into a good chunk of money during his time as a contractor. He’d used that cash to fund every possible vice he could think of, but the most ostentatious of all wasn’t his affinity for expensive luxury cars. It was his taste for beautiful women.
She cringed at the thought but stayed focused on the task at hand—getting through this gate.
“Those are invite only,” the white guard on the left said. “You weren’t invited.”
“And how do you know?”
He leaned his head back and then shook it. “Because we keep a list. And you’re not on it.”
“Fine,” she said, sticking out her lowe
r lip for the briefest of seconds. “Tell him that Diego’s daughter is here to see him.”
The two men glanced at each other, wondering what that meant.
“Sorry, Miss. You need to go. You’re trespassing.”
Adriana rolled her eyes. “Look, just walk back in there to your little shed, call your boss, and tell him Diego’s daughter needs to see him. I’d prefer this didn’t have to get ugly for the two of you.”
“Is that a threat?” The black guard seemed to take offense to the comment.
“It would be better if the two of you didn’t find out.”
“Why don’t you run along?” The white guard waved a hand as if shooing away a stray dog.
Adriana sighed. “Look, just make the call. If he says no, I’ll leave, and no one has any problems. Okay?”
Both guards sighed, cast sidelong questioning glances at each other again, and then the white guy walked back to the shack and picked up a phone. She watched through the window as the man chatted briefly with someone on the other end. She also took a moment to do a little reconnaissance. The winding driveway bent left, right, and back again as it meandered up the hill to the mansion on top. It was lined with bushy hemlocks and Colorado blue spruce spaced evenly along the driveway. She noted Christmas lights hanging on some of the branches and wrapped around the tree trunks. Each of the guard shacks was adorned with lush green wreaths accented with red and gold bows. The same wreaths hung from the iron gate blocking the way up the hill. Apparently, Tyler Lawson was a fan of the holidays.
The man in the guard building hung up the phone and stepped back outside. He shook his head sharply as he approached. “Sorry, ma’am. Mr. Lawson isn’t taking any visitors. And he was adamant about you specifically not being permitted on the premises. Now, please move along, or we’ll be forced to call the police.”
The guard neared the railing of the gate. Adriana let her feet shuffle subtly forward so that her chest was nearly touching the iron bars.
“You don’t want us to call the police,” the guard continued. His partner stood close behind him.
She could smell the cologne on the white guard’s neck. Why a security guard would wear cologne of any kind while on the job was baffling. That simple fact told her that these two weren’t as highly trained as they might believe. Then there was the next piece of evidence. A smart, or at least wary, security guy wouldn’t put himself so close to harm. He was well within arm’s reach, perhaps comforted by the gate between them. Maybe it was simply overconfidence. Either way, if she’d wanted to kill the man, he’d already be dead. This, however, wasn’t a mission where lethal force would be necessary.
Adriana pouted and put on her best disappointed look. “Is there nothing I can do to get in to see him? It’s really important.”
The guard closest to her narrowed his eyes and then glanced up at one of the cameras. He returned his gaze to her, this time with malicious intent sparkling in his eyes.
She’d seen that look before from men. It was driven by pure, uncaring lust. She knew exactly what the guy was going to ask for next. Based on the stories surrounding Lawson’s parties, these two were probably accustomed to getting what they wanted from ladies who desired entry.
They were scumbags, no better than the trolls guarding backstage areas at a rock concert.
Adriana had no intention of being some kind of groupie, but she’d set up the chess board and rigged it in her favor. Reaching into her jacket to take out her pulse pistol might have caused the two guards to react defensively. She was fast, but even if she moved quickly she could have probably only taken down one of them before the other drew his weapon and dropped her.
Now she had an opening as well as a captive audience.
“Oh,” she said. “You want to…see something?”
The man before her nodded slowly. It was a creepy gesture that would have sent shivers through a lesser person’s soul, but not Adriana. She was beautiful and had used that on the less intelligent, less moral individuals who’d stood in her way before.
She reached up and unzipped her coat slowly, teasing him for a moment as her hand passed her chest. The guard’s head tipped up a little while he lowered his eyes, full of desire. The second guard stepped closer and licked his lips.
These two were particularly degenerate. At first glance, you would have thought them respectable, hardworking, and disciplined. All of that went out the window. They were animals, nothing more.
“I guess you’d like me to take something out for you, huh?” she asked in her flirtiest voice, her sultry Spanish accent only heightening the desired effect.
Both guards nodded.
“Yeah,” the white guy said. “You do that.”
He acted like he was the boss, the one in control. He had no idea he and his partner had fallen right into her trap.
Adriana reached into her coat. She felt the cool metal of the pulse pistol against her fingertips. The weapon was something new to her, and non-lethal. It would take the two down in seconds, sending a high-voltage shock through their bodies by way of tiny pellets that would stick to their bodies.
Adriana gripped the weapon and tilted her head to the right, passing a seductive smile through the bars of the gate. The men’s anticipation heightened. Their hormones would certainly be raging at this point, taking away all sense of peril that would have normally driven them to a more cautious path.
She drew the pistol in the blink of an eye. The trigger gave way easily behind the pull of her finger. The barrel clicked as the first round passed through the muzzle, striking the white guard in the forehead. His body instantly began convulsing, and he dropped to the ground, writhing in the mush.
The second guard saw what had happened, but the fastest reaction he could muster was a shocked expression with eyes opening wide. The gun clicked again, and a round smacked the second guard in the neck. He, too, dropped to the ground, first on his knees and then over onto his side as he grappled to control his muscles. He twitched and squirmed, only able to get out a feeble screech for help that no one would hear.
Adriana looked right, then left, and then grabbed a hold of a parallel bar running across the top of the gate. She pulled herself up with ease, years of training and workouts coming to fruition in a moment of need. At the top, she deftly raised her right leg over the menacing spikes on the tip then set her left foot on the top bar, using it as a brace until she could vault the rest of her weight over. She flew across the sharp points with graceful ease and twisted her body in the process, grabbing the vertical bars to slow her fall as she dropped to the ground on the other side.
She landed in the snow next to the white guard. The pulsing round on his forehead had spent its juice, and now he was incapacitated, for the most part. She leaned down close and whispered in his ear while, at the same time, drawing a small pen from her jacket. “Thanks for letting me see your boss on such short notice.”
She shoved the pen into his neck and pressed the button on the end. A tiny needle shot out and jabbed through his skin, injecting a solution into his bloodstream. For a second, there was terror in his eyes as he anticipated the coming darkness of death. It took less than ten seconds for him to pass out. He wasn’t dead. Adriana had no intention of killing Lawson’s men. She’d left all but one of her deadly weapons in the car, opting to carry a small sidearm in case it was absolutely necessary.
She turned to the black man on the ground. He watched, unmoving as she approached and produced a second pen from her coat’s inner folds. He wanted to shake his head, wanted to beg for mercy, but he would have none save the peaceful rest of a few hours’ sleep in the cold.
Served them right.
She smiled cynically at him and then jabbed the pen into his neck. Within seconds, his eyelids grew heavy, and his head rolled to the side. Adriana dropped the device next to the unconscious body and then stood up straight. She stared up the driveway at the mansion.
No doubt, there would be more guards ahead. She checked the p
istol’s magazine through the clear back of the grip, noting how many rounds she had left. She carried one additional mag on her belt. That should be more than enough. If Lawson had more guards than she had rounds, the guy was way more paranoid than she expected.
16
Asheville
Adriana’s boots didn’t make a sound as she walked down the wide hallway. She’d become an expert at stealth long ago. Walking on the edges of her boots made sure there was only so much contact with the floor.
She turned to the right, cutting into a massive kitchen with a steel stove and oven, a matching vent hanging overhead, and cream-colored cabinetry. The façades of the refrigerator and dishwasher matched those of the cabinets and pantry, as was common in many affluent Southern homes. A black chandelier hung from the ceiling over a walnut farmhouse table in the breakfast nook.
Through the archway at the other end of the room she could see a fire crackling in the fireplace. The sound of burning wood popped, sizzled, and snapped. The intoxicating smell of a winter fire trickled throughout the mansion and teased her senses.
A man was sitting in a huge leather chair to the right of the fireplace, a snifter of brandy in his right hand, elbow propped on the armrest. He was young, as Adriana’s father suggested, though he didn’t look a day over twenty-one.
His tanned skin indicated a life of tropical pleasures, or perhaps outdoor adventure. His blond hair was cropped short, bent slightly to the left in a kind of spiked style. He was wearing a beige knit sweater with a hoodie on the back. His chino pants were light brown and contrasted with his black shoes. He looked the picture of a college kid trying to be sophisticated but barely pulling it off.
“There you are,” he said, raising his glass. “Please, come in, Adriana.”
She raised her pulse pistol and lined up his neck with the forward sights. Her arms were fully extended, both hands on the weapon to keep it steady. She knew better than to ignore her surroundings and kept watch out of the corner of her eyes in case someone tried to flank her. She still had six rounds left in the second magazine after taking out a battalion of guards at the entrance and inside the foyer.
The Omega Project Page 13