Finally, after a good fifteen minutes, Jack hung up and returned to the car. He nodded with satisfaction as he stuck his head in the door.
"All right. Didn't see anyone I know. How about you?"
"No one. What are you writing?"
"Makes, models, color, license plates. I see one of those cars again, I'm going to want to know why. Now… one more thing and we'll get rolling again."
He reached into the backseat and came up with the Land Rover—fully reassembled now with its black plastic body snapped into place. He took it out to the shoulder and watched it run along the pavement. His dark eyes were bright with excitement when he returned to the car.
"You know, the thing's running almost due west now. I think we're close."
Low gray clouds slid across the sky, obscuring the timid winter sun as Jack drove on into the hills of Ulster County. From a distance the denuded trees lent the surrounding hills a hazy look, a light brown fuzz broken here and there by dark green patches of pines.
At every major fork in the road, Jack would stop and watch the traffic for a while, then he'd take out the truck, see which way it ran, and choose their path accordingly.
The Rover led them farther and farther into the hills. As the pavement gave way to a hard-packed dirt road, Alicia felt a growing sense of anticipation seeping through her. She fought it for a while—she didn't want to look forward to anything connected to that man—but finally she gave in. Up ahead, perhaps over the next rise or around the next bend in the road, on one of these leafless wooded slopes, something momentous waited.
But as her anticipation grew, she noticed an increased edginess in Jack.
"Is something bothering you?" she said.
He shrugged. "All this wide-open space." He gestured to an expanse of hills and valleys visible through a break in the trees. "Not my kind of place. I like my roads paved, preferably with the option of traveling under them, and I like my trees growing in evenly spaced holes in the sidewalk."
Just then the tires began to spin and slip on the steep upgrade.
"Should have rented a Jeep," Jack said. He seemed annoyed with himself. "Should have thought of that."
But the tires finally caught and propelled the car up to where the rutted dirt road leveled out a little.
"It can't be too much farther," she said. "There's not much more of this mountain left."
"Yeah, but what if the Rover is pointing at the next mountain?"
Alicia hadn't thought of that.
A moment later they came to the end of the road.
"Swell," Jack said.
Alicia leaned forward, scanning the wall of tree trunks and thick underbrush ahead of them. She didn't want to believe they'd have to go all the way back down that road. And then she saw what looked like a break in the brush.
"Hang on. Is that a path?"
Rover in hand, Jack stepped out of the car. This time Alicia followed.
"Good eye, Alicia," he said, pointing to a thin footpath trailing off into the brush. "Lucky the leaves are gone. No way you'd see that if the brush was greened up. And that's a good thing."
"Why?"
"Could mean someone doesn't want it found too easily. Let's go."
Alicia pulled her coat collar more tightly around her neck. They'd traveled north, they were on a hilltop, the sun was hiding, and a wind was rising. She wished she'd dressed warmer.
The path threaded left and right around trees and boulders for a good fifty yards before it opened into a wide clearing. Alicia gasped when she saw the old log cabin that stood at its center. Those logs were the only thing old about the scene. The rest was all high-tech. The cabin's roof and much of the yard around it were decked with photoelectric solar panels. Also on the roof, jutting twenty-five or thirty-feet above the solar panels there, stood a strange-looking antenna.
"I'm going to be very surprised if this isn't the place," Jack said.
He put the Rover down and let it run. It rocked this way and that as it plowed through the weeds, but it moved inexorably toward the cabin's front door.
"One more check," Jack said.
As he carried the Rover around toward the north side, Alicia moved closer to the cabin. She noticed that the windows were sealed… bricked over. Someone did not want visitors.
"Look at this," Jack called from her right. "I moved it ninety degrees to the north, and now it's running south… right at this cabin. No doubt about it, Alicia. We've found it. This is the place."
Alicia rubbed her upper arms through her coat. Now she was really cold.
Suddenly Jack was at her side. "Here," he said, handing her the Rover. "Hold this while I get us inside."
"Going to pick the lock?" she said.
"Unfortunately, I forgot to bring my pick set." He bent and looked closer at the lock. "Too bad. It's a Yale. I'm good with Yales. Nope… looks like I'm going to have to do it the old-fashioned way."
So saying, he leaped forward and slammed his foot against the door just inches from the lock face. The sound of the impact echoed away down the hill.
But the door hadn't budged.
"I'll be damned," Jack said, checking out the hinges. "This door opens outward. Weird. And that's going to make it even tougher."
He took another flying leap at the heavy oak panels, with about as much success as before.
Three more times in rapid succession, with the noise echoing around them, and still the door stood firm.
Alicia froze as an accented voice behind them said, "Perhaps I might be of assistance?"
4.
Startled, Jack whirled and reached for his Semmerling, but held his hands wide when he saw that the newcomer already had a pistol pointing at him.
Yoshio.
Jack knew he had to look stupid standing here and gaping at him, but he couldn't figure it out…
"Where the hell did you come from?"
"From the trunk of your car."
"The trunk?" Jack couldn't believe it. "When did you—?" Then he got it. "Oh, hell. Back in Chelsea, right?"
He wanted to kick himself. He hadn't had the car long enough to notice the extra weight in the rear, but still, he shouldn't have left anything to chance.
Yoshio nodded with a strained smile. "A most uncomfortable ride."
"I'll bet," Jack said, remembering all the bumps they'd bounced over and holes their tires had dropped into on the way up here. "Jeez, you must've wanted to get here bad."
"Yes, Jack-san. Very bad. And what of your promise to share information? What had happened to that?"
"Our deal was right of first refusal," Jack said, gently as he could. Not a good idea to rile the man with the gun. "And we don't even know what we've got yet." He turned to Alicia. "By the way, this is Yoshio, the Japanese gentleman I told you about."
Alicia looked about ready to shed her skin. She stood stiff and still, her eyes never wavering from the muzzle pointed their way.
"Say, 'Pleased to meet you,' " Jack whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
"Pleased to—does he have to point that at us?"
"Very sorry," Yoshio said. "If Jack-san will please to give me his weapon, I will put this away. It is only to protect myself, I assure you."
So damn polite, Jack thought as he pulled out the Semmerling and handed it over.
But true to his word, Yoshio pocketed the little .45 and then holstered his own 9mm. It occurred to Jack that this was a guy who had to be pretty sure of his physical abilities.
"Now," Yoshio said, "shall we see what is inside?"
Jack nodded. "All right. On my count…"
The door cracked around the latch plate on their first simultaneous kick; the plate buckled on their second, and they were able to pull the door open.
The first thing Jack noticed was that the lights were on inside.
But then, considering what this place supposedly housed, why not?
"Please," Yoshio said. "After you."
Polite, Jack thought. And not letting me get
behind him.
The single room inside was like Ted Kaczynski meets Radio Shack. A table, a chair, a cot, a couple of throw rugs, and a pair of filing cabinets completed the list of furnishings. The rest, taking up a good three quarters of the space, was an electronic nightmare of wires and metal boxes and blinking lights. And in the center of it all was this glass tube with a beam of brilliant white light shooting through it. The beam looked almost… solid.
Now Yoshio moved ahead of them, inspecting the humming equipment, staring at the beam.
"I don't understand," he said. "Is this the Ronald Clayton technology? What does it do?"
He wasn't putting me on, Jack thought. He really doesn't know.
He glanced at Alicia. "Should I tell him? He's a buyer."
She nodded. "Go ahead."
Jack went to the lamp sitting on the table and checked to see if it had a cord. It did… but it wasn't plugged in. A small aerial jutted up from the base.
"Here," he said, motioning Yoshio over. "This says it all."
He handed him the lamp. Yoshio took it and stared at it.
"I have seen a lamp like this before."
"Then you should know."
The Japanese looked at him questioningly. "Know what?"
"Figure it out," Jack said, then moved toward the filing cabinets.
He wasn't in an explaining mood. Better to let Yoshio figure it out on his own. An epiphany beat out a lecture any day.
Alicia had one of the file drawers open and was staring at something that looked like a blueprint.
"Circuit diagrams," she said. "Do these… mean anything to you?"
"I can program my VCR and turn on my computer," Jack told her. "Beyond that… I don't do wires. I am the Sergeant Schultz of electronics: 'I know nussing.'"
Suddenly Yoshio let out an "Ayiiiieeee!" followed by a Sten gun barrage of Japanese.
Jack said, "The light, so to speak, has dawned."
He watched Yoshio carry the lamp over to the electronic jumble, where he stood wide-eyed and red-cheeked, his head jerking back and forth between the lamp and the Clayton gizmo as he mumbled in Japanese.
"This is real?" he said, returning to English as he approached Jack and Alicia. "This is true?"
"Near as we can tell," Jack said.
"No wonder Iswid Nahr killed a plane full of people," he said, his voice filled with awe. "They would kill thousands, millions to stop this." He stared at the lamp in his hands. "And to think I was this close to an identical lamp and did not realize. I thought they were staring at something by the light of the lamp… not at the lamp itself."
"Yeah, whatever," Jack said. He hadn't the faintest idea what Yoshio was talking about. He pointed to the file cabinets. "Looks like all the specs are right here. Think your people would be interested?"
"Interested? Oh, yes, I am—"
"Hands up! Everyone! NOW!"
Jack jumped at the shouted commands, delivered with a military bark, but his hands acted on their own, the left rising as ordered, but the right snaking toward the Semmerling—and then he remembered… Yoshio had it.
And Yoshio's hands were loaded down with that damn lamp. He was no help.
So Jack raised both hands and slowly turned, knowing who he'd see.
Yeah… he'd figured it would have to be Kemel and Baker and the remainder of his crew. Thomas Clayton—with his swollen nose and blackened eyes—was a surprise, but not a big one.
Jack felt his gut tighten. This was bad. Worse than bad.
Of the five newcomers pushing through the doorway, Kemel was the only one without a personal grudge against Jack. And he wasn't all that sure about Kemel.
But how the hell had they got here? He damn well knew they hadn't shared the trunk with Yoshio.
What'd I do—leave a trail of fluorescent paint along the way?
5.
It is here! Kemel thought, holding back tears of joy. Allah be praised, I have succeeded. I have found it.
He stiffened his knees as he stepped farther into the cabin. He was weak with relief but wanted no one to know.
He looked at the three occupants. He knew Alicia Clayton, and recognized her investigator, but the other man… the Oriental holding the lamp…
"Who are you?" he asked, pointing to him.
The man shook his head. His quick dark eyes showed no fear.
"I can find out for you real quick," Baker said, aiming his pistol at one of the man's knees.
"No," Kemel said. "No shooting in this place."
He had to be very firm here. He could not let this situation get out of control. Not with success now in his grasp.
It did not matter if the Oriental spoke. Kemel was certain he was Japanese. Who else could he represent? Ronald Clayton had been on his way to that country with a promise of a wondrous technology. They had to suspect foul play in the crash.
"All right," Baker said. "Then we'll take them outside." He bared his teeth as he approached Alicia Clayton's man. "Especially this one. He's gonna die real slow."
The man clasped his hands above his head and dropped to his knees. He hung his head and sobbed. "Please… please don't hurt me!"
One of Baker's men stepped forward and pulled his leg back to kick the man. "Why you sniveling pussy—!"
"Barlowe, no!" Baker said, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him back. "That's just what he wants you to do, asshole! He'd have you down and your weapon on us before you knew what happened."
With a half smile twisting his mouth, Alicia Clayton's man abruptly ceased his pleading and returned to his feet. He gave a little nod of acknowledgment, which seemed to please Baker very much. Baker took a single step closer to the man.
"We start off long distance on you, then move in close for the fun stuff."
"Not yet, Baker," Kemel said. "He may have information I need."
"Like what? What is this place, anyway?"
Kemel ignored the question. The less Baker knew, the better. "Disarm them and guard them. You may do whatever you wish when I am through with him."
He had to hold that out to Baker. During the trip into these hills, Baker and his two remaining men had talked of little else than what they would do to the man who had killed their fellows. But Kemel also had to make sure that what he saw before him now was all of it, that there was no other transmitter. He would learn from the Clayton woman and her hireling how they located this one, and if they knew of any others.
And then…
And then they would all have to die.
Kemel did not relish that. In fact, he had been dreading this moment. He had known about the bomb on JAL 27, but that hadn't been his idea. It had disturbed him that so many innocent lives had to be sacrificed in order to take one, yet he had also understood the absolute necessity of preventing Ronald Clayton from reaching Japan. And what were 247 lives compared to the well-being of the entire Arab world? A relative few had been sacrificed for a far greater good. Was it not so throughout all history?
But at least those faceless deaths had occurred far away, and by the impersonal agency of an explosive device. Today would be different. The dead would have names and faces, and their killers would look into those faces, watch them die. By his order.
But he had his orders, and agreed with their wisdom, their implacable necessity: No one outside of Iswid Nahr must know about this technology.
He watched Barlowe hold his assault weapon to the Oriental's head while Baker's other man, the one he called Kenny, took the lamp from him and removed two pistols. They followed the same procedure with Alicia Clayton's man who, surprisingly, was unarmed. Baker moved them and the Clayton woman to the side, allowing Thomas Clayton access to the file cabinets.
Baker had finally proved useful. In fact, despite all the setbacks, he finally had accomplished what he had been hired to do. The little transponder he'd placed in the bottom of the woman's handbag had allowed them to stay miles behind as they'd followed her here. But he would not be rewarded with the huge bonus
and lifetime of easy employment he anticipated.
Baker and his men would dispose of these three and bury their bodies far from here. And not long after today—as soon as tomorrow, perhaps—Kemel was sure that Iswid Nahr would pay Baker in his own currency.
Thomas Clayton would have to go as well, Kemel suspected.
No loose ends.
"It's all here," Thomas Clayton said, looking up from an open filing cabinet drawer. "Everything you need to know to broadcast power. And it uses solar energy. You owe me big time. I think I underpriced our deal."
"You should feel lucky you're getting a dime," his sister said.
Thomas looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Oh, really?" he replied, drawing out the words.
"The minute you walked through that door," she said, "you went from asset to liability. They don't need you anymore. You've become as disposable as the rest of us."
"No," he said, turning Kemel's way. "We've got a deal, right, Kemel?"
Kemel held his gaze and tried his best to give nothing away. He found Thomas Clayton a reprehensible human being, but did not want to deal with him now. Let Iswid Nahr handle him.
"Of course. And we will honor our word."
But some hint of what the future held must have seeped into his eyes, for Thomas's expression hardened.
"I was afraid of that," he said, reaching into his pocket.
He withdrew a pistol and pointed it at Kemel.
6.
Tommy-boy, Jack thought as he saw the little .32 appear, you're a class-A jerk, but I love you.
All eyes—Alicia's, Kemel's, Baker's, and his men's—were on Thomas now.
Almost all…
Jack glanced at Yoshio and found him looking his way. A quick lift of one of his eyebrows told Jack that he knew it too: This just might be their chance… the only one they'd get.
"That is not necessary, Thomas," Kemel said.
"Yeah," Baker told him. "Put that away before you hurt yourself… or someone hurts you."
Jack had gathered from talk between their captors that Baker's two men were Kenny—the redhead—and Barlowe—the dark-haired guy with the big nose.
"No," Thomas said. His voice wavered as much as the muzzle of the .32, but the little weapon remained trained on Kemel, who was only half a dozen feet away. Jack doubted even Thomas could miss at that range. "I think it's very necessary. I half suspected that I might get the short end of the stick once we found this. But that's not going to happen."
Repairman Jack [02]-Legacies Page 34