“Exactly,” replied Bram. “But whatever this is about, it’s a mistake. I’m just an innocent, law-abiding citizen. I don’t know what’s going on. But I do know that I’m not involved in anything shady. And I don’t know anyone who is. There’s no reason I can think of for anyone to be after me.”
The Russian shook his head in amusement.
Bram was confused by this reaction. Why was this funny? “I’m telling you, you have the wrong guy!” he insisted. “I promise!”
Volkov’s smile only expanded. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he said dryly.
“Look, there’s been a mistake,” insisted Bram. “I’m sure of it. But we can get to the bottom of this. I’ll cooperate with you, tell you anything you want to know. But there is no reason you need her,” he said, nodding toward Riley. “Please,” he pleaded. “Let her go. She has nothing to do with this.”
This time Volkov actually laughed out loud. “She has everything to do with this, you idiot!” he barked dismissively.
Bram stared stupidly at the man, his face a mask of total incomprehension.
“What makes you think we’re here for you?” finished the Russian in contempt.
20
Major Marat Volkov ordered his two comrades to duct tape the prisoners’ mouths shut. Once this was completed the two men left to make sure the coast was clear. When they signaled that it was, Volkov marched the two civilians to a mammoth SUV parked near the door and loaded them inside, sandwiching them between the man named Yuri and another comrade already in the vehicle. He then pulled himself into the passenger’s seat next to Sergei Greshnev, and motioned for his second-in-command to begin driving to the Seventh-day Adventist church they had selected.
“Do you think they’re telling the truth about how they ended up here?” said Volkov in Russian to his second-in-command.
“I do,” said Greshnev. “But I don’t like coincidences. And I’d like to know who visited them and why.”
“I agree. Lots of unanswered questions. But we should still be able to accomplish our mission. This doesn’t prevent us from proceeding as planned. Other than forcing us to arrive at the church sooner than expected,” he added. “Speaking of which, how long until it’s fully rigged to my specifications?”
“Probably won’t be done until an hour or so after our arrival. Alex and Ilya are working as quickly as they can. It’s tricky work with a lot of explosives, so I didn’t think it wise to rush them.”
Volkov nodded his agreement. “Just make sure they focus on the pastor’s office first. That way we can park the prisoners there while preparations are being completed.”
Greshnev dutifully relayed these instructions to the two men already at the church while he continued to drive, carefully observing the speed limit.
The mystery man who had visited Bram made Volkov uneasy, but on the whole he was as excited as he had been in a long while. They were on the home stretch now. He could feel it.
They completed the journey to the church in silence and led the prisoners inside. Volkov had their gags removed, but instructed them not to speak unless they were spoken to.
He paused for a moment to admire the surprising beauty of the church. This was his first time inside. The sanctuary was spacious, with a vaulted ceiling, colorful stained glass windows, and polished wooden pews spreading out from the pulpit like ripples in a pond. Red carpet covered the entire floor.
While all of the adornments had been removed by church leaders, to be taken to their new facility, they had obviously decided not to gut the pews or pulpit, perhaps because the most likely purchaser would be another church. Regardless of denomination, another congregation would simply have to bring in a piano and other adornments, specific to their sect, to transform this magnificent room to their liking.
Volkov led the prisoners through the sanctuary and to a door in the back, where Alex Bagrov and Ilya Davydov had just finished the installation and testing of an electronic monitor and control.
“This is the pastor’s office,” he explained to his prisoners, opening the door and waving them inside. Unlike the sanctuary, the office was now an empty husk, the desk, chairs, and computer gone, the walls bare. A built-in bookcase adorned one wall, but it, too, was now empty.
“Wait here,” he told them. “I’ll be back for you in an hour. Did you see the monitor my men just installed?”
The both nodded.
“This monitor controls powerful explosives, which are now ringing this room. Highly directional explosives. When I leave, I’ll enter a code into the monitor. This will arm the charges. If you try to exit, the room will explode, with the blast directed inward. You will both die instantly, and no one else outside of the room will be affected.”
“Isn’t this a little elaborate?” said Bram. “Wouldn’t locking the door or tying us up ensure we stay put just the same?”
Volkov smiled. “Yes. But this way I don’t have to post a guard. And since you may be staying here for a day or two, this will be your home away from home. You’ll be more comfortable.” He gestured to a closed door at the back of the office. “You even have a small bathroom, with a sink.”
The Russian paused. “But most importantly,” he continued, “the explosives aren’t just there to ensure you don’t try to leave. They’re also there to ensure that no one who isn’t authorized tries to enter. Anyone attempting a rescue will trigger your deaths.”
After pausing a moment to let this register, he added, “But don’t worry, we’ll make sure any would-be rescuer is well aware.”
“No one’s going to attempt a rescue,” said Bram. “No one will even know we’re missing until Monday at the earliest.”
“If you say so,” said Volkov agreeably, retreating back toward the door.
“Before you leave us,” said Bram, “were you serious about what you said before? Is this really about her?” he finished, nodding at Riley.
Volkov nodded. “That’s right.”
“Then you’re making an even bigger mistake than I thought. If you check, you’ll find out that she works at the Helen Woodward Animal Center. Not known for being a CIA outpost. Why would you go to all this trouble to capture her?”
Volkov turned to Riley. “Do you want to tell him?”
She shot him a look that could have melted lead, but didn’t respond.
“Tell me what?” said Bram. “There’s nothing to tell. You’ve got the wrong woman. I’ve been to where she works. I’ve met her friends there, seen her office. Dated her for almost a year. If she had some big secret, I would know it.”
“Really?” said Volkov, raising his eyebrows.
The Russian had work to do and really shouldn’t loiter, but he couldn’t resist having a little fun with a man who was so certain of what he thought he knew. “Did she tell you how her parents almost lost their farm?” he asked. “Did she describe what she was forced to endure in a cornfield in Indiana that changed her life forever?”
Bram shook his head no, looking shaken that Volkov had knowledge of critical events in Riley’s past, knowledge that she had never shared with him.
“No?” said Volkov. “She didn’t?” he added in mock surprise. “Now why do you suppose that is?”
“Enough!” snapped Riley. “If you really know what you’re talking about, tell him! Don’t toy with him.”
Volkov grinned. If Bram was confused and anxious before, he was even more so after this outburst.
“Okay,” replied the Russian. “As you wish.”
He faced Bram, relishing the man’s discomfort. “She didn’t tell you about this, Mr. Bram . . . because it never happened. Because nothing ever happened to her in a cornfield. Because she didn’t really grow up in Indiana. Because she’s probably never even been on a farm. She lied to you about all of it. Her name isn’t really even Riley Ridgeway. This is a name she gave to herself.”
Bram reacted like the Russian’s every sentence was a bludgeon, landing blow after blow directly into his stom
ach.
“Care to guess her real name?” finished Volkov.
Bram shook his head, the color having drained from his face.
“It’s Melissa,” said the Russian with a cruel smile. “Melissa Jordan. Maybe you don’t know as much about her as you thought. Turns out you’ve been dating Isaac Jordan’s missing daughter.”
21
David Bram’s head was spinning so fast he didn’t hear the rest of what the Russian said, or notice him leaving the room and closing the door carefully behind himself.
Isaac Jordan’s daughter? Talk about ridiculous. Of course Riley Ridgeway wasn’t Isaac Jordan’s daughter.
He remembered seeing photos of Melissa Jordan years earlier. While she was beautiful in her own right, and did share some resemblance to Riley, there was no doubt they were two different people.
But even as he thought this, Riley lowered herself to the floor and slumped against the wall, her expression vacant, hurt. She lowered her eyes and looked decidedly ill.
What she wasn’t doing was telling Bram that the Russian was crazy, and that she had grown up on a farm in Indiana as she had told him.
Could it be true? Could she really be Melissa Jordan?
He realized with a start that if she were, this would explain a lot.
Intelligence was a mix of many things, but genetics did play a role. And Riley’s brilliance reminded Bram of how Isaac Jordan’s brilliance was often described. Effortless. Coming across without him even trying to be impressive, even when he was chatting about the most mundane of topics.
Was Riley—or Melissa, as the case might be—the apple that hadn’t fallen far from the tree? The result of a cross between the most brilliant man in a generation and his gorgeous wife?
No woman he had ever met could fit this bill any better than Riley Ridgeway.
And this would also explain why she was able to afford a small condo in San Diego and insisted on paying her own way so often. He had marveled at how much Helen Woodward was able to pay their low-level employees, since this seemed to be the only job she had ever held, and she had said that her parents were barely getting by.
But if she really was Isaac Jordan’s daughter, her wealth would put his to shame. Her wealth would put the wealth of many countries to shame.
He gazed at her beautiful face, and she refused to even meet his gaze.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” he said at last. “You really are Melissa Jordan.”
“Don’t ever call me that name!” she shouted, once again making no effort to deny the charge. Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes.
In a burst of insight, Bram realized that this revelation didn’t just explain her brains, beauty, and wealth. It explained everything about her. About her behavior. About their relationship.
Of course she didn’t want to use the Jordan name. It had been poisoned. Her father was a man who had killed thousands in cold blood. Who had killed and beheaded the rest of her family, the footage of which had chalked up the most views of any video in YouTube history.
Who could possibly want to be reminded of that, associated with that?
Which explained the rest. Why she sometimes seemed to hide her intelligence, to bottle up her true, optimistic, outgoing nature. Why she was so adamantly opposed to taking their relationship to the next level.
He had thought the secret he was keeping from her was big, but it was nothing next to hers. Hers was a secret that, if revealed, would be the top news story around the world. Billions would be talking about it nonstop for days.
No wonder she was so terrified of falling in love, of commitment. Part of it was that she was forced to hide so much of her life, her past, her essence from him. But far more of her reticence must stem from the nature of this secret. She had loved her family once. And they had all been wiped out—all except her. Not just wiped out, but butchered. And not just by a random stranger but by her very own father, whom she had also probably loved.
After she had suffered such an inconceivable betrayal, after everyone she had loved had been taken from her, how could she possibly be brave enough to let her guard down ever again? To let someone in? To let him in?
And she had to live in abject fear that brilliance wasn’t the only trait she had inherited from her father. Psychosis was inheritable as well. If she ever had a husband and children, could she be certain she wouldn’t someday kill them all in cold blood the way her father had done?
It was a miracle she was as well-adjusted as she was.
Her personality was upbeat and optimistic. It was in her DNA. But she had lived through unspeakable trauma. Of course she was conflicted. Cheerful by nature, but scarred after being a witness to the very worst of humanity.
No wonder she loved dogs so much. Humanity sucked. A loyal dog would never let you down, never betray your trust.
And no wonder she holed up at Helen Woodward and also volunteered to raise puppies for the disabled, rather than bestow the fruits of her genius on the world as her father had done. This allowed her to avoid people, to avoid the spotlight, while still helping to improve the lives of the disabled and pet lovers, perhaps her way of making at least some small amends for the thousands of lives that Isaac Jordan had taken.
Of course she sought to avoid drawing attention to herself. Of course she put up a wall between them. Anything to avoid true emotional intimacy.
Bram lowered himself to the ground and sat cross-legged facing her. “I’m so sorry, Riley,” he whispered, making sure to use the name he had come to love. “I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through. How much you’ve suffered. But it doesn’t change how I feel about you. You’re a victim. You aren’t responsible for anything that happened.”
“I considered telling you so many times,” she said softly, tears leaking from her eyes ever so slowly. “The pain of keeping this so tightly bottled up was nearly unbearable. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. To have you pity me, or else see me as a leper.”
“I would never do either,” he assured her. “I just want to be there for you,” he added, not sure of what else to say. “And I want you to share everything with me. I need you to share everything with me. All of it.”
Bram shook his head miserably. “But first,” he continued, “as much as I hate to do it, we have to discuss our current situation. We’re in big trouble here,” he added, probably not needing to spell this out while inside a room laced with explosives primed to kill them if they tried to leave.
She nodded woodenly.
“Any idea what these guys want from you?” he asked. “The fact that you’re still alive is a huge story. But this doesn’t explain the fake FBI agent or our Russian friend. Are you important for other reasons? Are you keeping other secrets I should know about?”
“You realize that this room is probably bugged,” she told him, her tears having stopped and her emotional state stabilizing now that her powerful mind was engaged with other matters.
The moment she said it, he knew that she was right. Even this distraught, she always managed to think with crystal clarity. The Russian had prepared this room especially for them, knowing they would be spending considerable time here. The men they were up against were too good not to listen in. “Forget I asked,” he said, feeling foolish.
“Not at all. I was just pointing it out. I don’t care if they listen in. Because I have no other secrets. And I’m more than willing to tell them anything they want to know.”
Riley paused in thought. “I can only think of two reasons someone might go to the trouble of capturing me. One, the money angle. Hundreds of billions of dollars of my fath—of his money, went missing that day. The government froze many billions more. After all was said and done, I inherited only the smallest fraction.” She shrugged. “Still . . .” she added, letting the thought hang.
She didn’t need to say more. Even the tiniest fraction of the assets of the world’s wealthiest man was a mind-boggling amount.
“But for some reason,” s
he said, “I’m convinced this isn’t about money.”
“So am I,” said Bram. “So what’s the second possibility?” he prompted.
“Maybe they think I know the nature of what . . . my father . . . was working on,” she said, her face flashing hatred as she was reluctantly forced to acknowledge her relationship with Isaac Jordan. “You know, before he . . . well, before that . . . day.”
“Do you?” he asked.
“Yes, but just in general. Nothing that could help anyone make any breakthroughs. He kept it secret and pretended to be doing other things, but he was a workaholic and took his work home every night and on weekends. He wasn’t worried if I saw it. I know he thought I was a bright kid, but he never guessed I’d have any idea of what I was looking at.”
“But you did, didn’t you?
She nodded. “He was heavy into AGI,” she said simply.
Bram almost gasped. Another piece of the puzzle falling into place. Another explanation for behavior he had considered inexplicable. Her father had been secretly involved in AGI research when he had snapped. And she had just learned that her boyfriend was secretly working in the exact same field. “No wonder you reacted the way you did when you found out about me,” he said.
“It brought back memories I didn’t want brought back. And I was creeped out. I still am. Without knowing it, I’ve managed to fall for a man similar to my father,” she said. “Not only bright, but also drawn to the problem of AGI. Words can’t describe how much I loathe the memory of that man. The idea that I would be dating someone even remotely like him is horrifying. I’d rather you were doing just about anything else.”
Bram nodded. So much had now become clear. If they were able to get out of this alive, he had reason to hope he could, in time, find a way past her emotional barriers. Calm her fears, be as patient and understanding as necessary. She was more than worth it. She may have been born Melissa Jordan, but he had fallen in love with Riley Ridgeway.
Infinity Born Page 13