Off the Grid (A Gerrit O'Rourke Novel)

by Young, Mark

  “This is why your dad was upset when you redeployed to Iraq. He wanted you to return to MIT, where the two of you could start digging into this. He didn’t know who to trust.”

  Gerrit lowered his eyes, thinking back just before his last tour of duty overseas. He had gotten a weekend pass to fly to Boston and meet with his folks before shipping out. His father could barely hold in his anger after Gerrit refused to allow him to intercede to get him removed from full duty. His father wanted to use his military and political contacts to have Gerrit return to MIT.

  “I have something really important I need your help with, son. Others can serve their country over there. You already sacrificed. And they don’t have your special skills—those gifts you can bring to the table to help me in a special research project. It is important.”

  But Gerrit dug in his heels.

  Vainly, his father persisted “It’s a matter of life and death, Gerrit. I need your help.”

  “Tell me what it is. I have people depending on me to keep them alive over there. What can be so important on that campus that I should turn my back on them and help you?”

  His father’s angry eyes bore down on him, jaws clenched. “I can’t tell you—unless you are cleared to work with me.”

  Gerrit’s stomach tightened as he thought of that last day. “I can’t, Dad. I’ve given my word. My men need me.”

  “I need you, son.”

  Gerrit slowly shook his head. He watched as a look of abject failure crept into his father’s eyes.

  “Then we have nothing further to discuss.” His father stormed away. They never spoke to each other again.

  Voices outside the cabin caught Gerrit’s attention. He heard Alena speaking to another woman. The group walked back toward the river, leaving Joe and Gerrit to continue their conversation.

  “Your dad came to me after I joined Argonne National Laboratory outside Chicago just before his death. He knew we both were going to be in Seattle for a conference, and he wanted to introduce me to some of his contacts in an investigation he had quietly launched. He didn’t tell me any details but mentioned that they kept hearing about a project called Operation Megiddo. He didn’t know what it represented or who was behind it, but he learned the project had to do with significant breakthroughs in computer technology. A part of it dealt with my field—cyber-security technologies.”

  “Megiddo?” Gerrit sounded it out. “Among other references, Megiddo is a place in Israel, a historical location. And you know what it means translated into the Hebrew?”

  Joe nodded. “Mountain of Megiddo. Better known as Armageddon. Biblical references tell us that in the end times, Christ will return to defeat the anti-Christ in the battle of Armageddon, although I believe the actual battle will take place near Jerusalem. Satan’s forces will gather at Megiddo before that final confrontation.”

  “Interesting choice of the word—Megiddo.” Gerrit grappled with this implication. He didn’t want to get into a theological discussion about eschatology. They had enough to worry about in the here and now. “Did you find out more about Operation Megiddo?”

  Joe held up his hand. “Let’s take this one step at a time. It gets very complicated.” His uncle stood and walked toward the window, peering outside for a moment. Finally, he turned to face Gerrit. “Tom—your dad—warned me they had learned that several scientists died under questionable circumstances. But he could not get anyone to tell him the specifics of their deaths or the investigations into these matters. It was like some powerful hand clamped down on these cases. Once each death investigation was closed, the findings became classified as accidental death or death by natural causes. Your dad even mentioned he and your mom received threats. That they were warned to keep their noses out of other people’s business. He felt they might be under surveillance and wanted me to come on board to help.”

  “Did you?”

  His uncle’s head lowered, an expression of regret painted across the man’s face. “At first, I said I would. Then one day, as I was leaving Argonne, two men in an unmarked vehicle pulled me over. They yanked me out of the car, dragged me into the back of their vehicle, and drove to a commercial high-rise under construction. They took me to the top floor, an unfinished level without walls or railings. We must have been twenty stories high. They grabbed me by the ankles and flipped me over the edge, dangling me in the air while I screamed for help.”

  His uncle clearly was reliving that moment. “What happened, Uncle Joe?”

  The older man looked up, a look of fear lancing in his eyes. “They let me scream until my voice turned hoarse. I thought they were going to kill me, looking at the ground and knowing I was about to fall to my death. They eventually raised me up to safety, pulled me inside, and threw me on the ground. I can still remember their laughter, like it was some big joke.”

  His eyes glistened, and Joe covered his face to hide his shame. Gerrit remained quiet, allowing his uncle to gather himself.

  “They said this was just an example of what they’d do next if I helped your folks. Next time—if I didn’t play ball—they’d let me suffer a long time before killing me. Slowly and painfully.” He looked up at Gerrit. “I believed them.”

  He came and sat next to Gerrit. “I met your dad in Seattle and told him I wanted nothing to do with his investigation. That I thought he was a fool to continue to poke his nose where it did not belong.”

  “And what happened?”

  “Your folks and I met in that garage—where they were killed. After we argued, I jumped out of the car and made it to the stairs when the bomb went off. It threw me to the ground. The ringing in my ears was so bad, I couldn’t hear anything for a few minutes. I finally ran back to find… “ He choked back the words and wiped a tear from his eye. “It could have been me that day.”

  Flashes of the video came back to Gerrit, remnants of what was left of his parents. His voice grew hoarse. “What did you do?”

  “I realized that they intended to kill all of us. I started running. In a way, I’ve been running ever since.”

  “So, you never found out who was behind this bombing?”

  Joe gave him a rueful smile. “I found out one name.”

  Gerrit slowly raised himself from the bed, his whole body suddenly rigid. “Who? Who did this?” His mouth felt dry as he waited for Joe to answer.

  “I could never prove it, but I know who was behind it—Richard Kane.”

  Chapter 23

  Harrogate, England

  A rap on the door drew Richard Kane’s attention from a file on his desk. “Come in.”

  George Lawton barged in, his face flushed and rigid. “What the bloody hell’s going on, Richard? First, that incident in Vienna. Now, three murders in Seattle? What have you gotten us into?”

  Richard pushed away from the desk and ran his fingers through his long hair. “What do you mean?”

  Lawton leaned on Richard’s desk, fingers knuckled to support his weight. “You send Gerrit into Adleman’s place—using a cover we set up for you guys—and the next thing I know, Gerrit’s on the run and Adleman’s dead.”

  Richard studied the British intelligence officer for a moment. “Things don’t always go as planned.”

  “As planned? Nothing’s gone as planned. Gerrit was supposed to go in there and fish around Adleman’s apartment to see what he might turn up. Low-key and quiet. Now, Gerrit may have been blown up in Seattle. Not only that, but the prosecutor he’s shacking with is gunned down and his partner is tortured and killed. Not going as planned? This is not acceptable. What did you unleash?”

  Richard bristled. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, George. The thing in Vienna…mishap of the trade. Adleman died. Who knows why?”

  Lawton leaned closer. “Who are you trying to kid?”

  “Prove otherwise.”

  “I don’t have to prove anything. I just have to pass along my suspicions. Those up the chain will have you jerked tomorrow.”

  “Don’t think
you want to do that, George. After all, they acted on your recommendation. You set up the Vienna cover. Now you have cold feet? How’s that going to look…up your chain?”

  Lawton glared back. “And what about Seattle?”

  “What about it?” Richard stood and faced his visitor. “Looks like the handiwork of the Russian mob. Bombs, torture, killing a federal prosecutor in her own backyard. You do know that all three were working a case against Russian organized crime. In fact, Gerrit shot and killed one of their leaders. Maybe they were just trying to get even, retaliate for one of their own getting wasted.”

  “You think Senator Summers is going to swallow that?”

  “As far as I am concerned, this all seems plausible. And, by the way, Adleman’s death has been classified as a heart attack—a ruptured aorta, I believe, is the way they described it.”

  “You never cease to amaze me, Kane. The degree by which you manipulate events. So where does that leave you”

  “Leave me” Richard’s eyebrows rose. “Are you part of the team or not, George?”

  Lawton’s head lowered. He gave a heavy sigh and lowered himself into the chair. “I guess I’m still in. It just feels like we have too many loose ends. What if everything begins to unravel?”

  “Who’s going to poke his head into this mess? Gerrit’s probably dead and Senator Summers knows he has to play ball or his backside will be exposed.”

  “But his daughter—”

  “His daughter is dead. The senator is a practical man. He has nothing to gain now by fighting us. Nothing to gain, and everything to lose.”

  “And if Gerrit is alive?”

  Richard relaxed. “Then he is still out there chasing ghosts. Thinks the Russians had something to do with his parents’ murders.”

  “And why would he believe that?”

  “Because I tainted the evidence from the bomb site and made sure a Russian detonator was seized as evidence. And I made sure the crumbs of evidence led Gerrit right to Nico.”

  Lawton shook his head. “Unbelievable. All this time, O’Rourke believed the Russians were behind the bombing? That’s why he was so fixated on that criminal organization?”

  Richard nodded and just smiled. At least until Gerrit found out he’d been set up in Vienna. It was a good thing the man died in his houseboat, or the detective could have given them real trouble.

  Richard would have to make certain Gerrit had died in the explosion.

  After Lawton left, Richard sat back down and dialed a number on a secure line to the United States. “How y’all doing out there? Any complications?”

  “Sir, we got people on the ground, covering the houseboat and the federal building. So far, all fingers are pointing toward the Russians. They’re still sifting through evidence.”

  “And Gerrit. Have they identified his body?”

  “Not much to identify. Talked to one of the bomb guys. Said there might not be enough left to run DNA. The fire burned hotter than even our people expected.”

  “What are you saying? Someone added to the blast?”

  “We don’t know, sir. Talked to the guy who was set to activate things. He said the blast went off before he had a chance to trigger it.”

  “You mean the blast went off all by itself?”

  “No…um, well, maybe. That’s just it. Our guy said someone could have piggybacked his signal and set it off on their own. But he’s not sure how they did it…if they did it.”

  “I want your people to go through everything. Make sure Gerrit is dead and there aren’t others out there involved in this thing that we don’t know about. Understand? Gerrit knows too much to be left out there alive. If he did survive, he might be able to start putting pieces together.”

  “I don’t see how he could have survived it. And the investigators are pretty sure there was a body that burned up in that blast.”

  “I don’t want any guessing. I want to know for sure. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, sir. We’ll keep on it.”

  Richard slammed down the phone. There was too much at stake. He had to get everything under control. If those who empowered him started to question his abilities, it would only be a matter of time before they retired him. Permanently.

  That wasn’t going to happen. He was a survivor, willing to do whatever it took to stay on top. To do that, he had to be aware of all the options. He needed to know who he could trust and who he needed to purge.

  There was one person who might be able to help. No one but Richard knew about this person. Contact between them must be kept to a minimum. He couldn’t risk exposing this person. At least until now. He needed to know right now! Whatever the cost.

  Kane sent off a message and hoped it slipped through undetected.

  Chapter 24

  Clearwater River, Idaho

  Kane was involved with his parents’ death. And here Gerrit was, stuck in bed as weak as a lamb. Irritated, he eased himself to the side of the bed, his head still woozy. Planting both feet on the rough-timbered floor, he slowly raised himself, grasping the headboard for support.

  His uncle looked concerned. “Take it slow. Doc said you had a serious concussion and to keep a close eye on you.”

  “A doctor makes house calls out here? I remember a guy coming during the night. Can’t recall much else.”

  Joe nodded. “Travis knew a local doctor he trusted. Had him come check you out. The guy said you belonged in a hospital, at least until your head cleared and you could get on your feet. We couldn’t run that risk, unfortunately. You need to stay still for a day or so—doctor’s orders.” Joe smiled, patted a pile of folded clothes, and glanced at Gerrit’s bare legs. “Travis left these for you. Might want to slip into these unless you’re set on giving the women a real thrill.”

  Gerrit stood and reached for the pants. A gentle knock on the door made him lunge. He had one leg started when Alena came through the doorway. She took one look and tried to stifle a grin. “Joe, you guys have a chance to talk?”

  He nodded. “We got to the point where Richard Kane’s name popped up.”

  Gerrit finished putting on his pants, zipped up, and slipped on a black T-shirt with white lettering. Again, Alena smiled, glancing at the inscription. “Looks like Travis must have gotten that from a homicide school. My day starts when your day ends. Travis has a sense of humor.”

  Gerrit glanced down at his chest. “My day would have ended if you and your friend hadn’t bailed me out. Never did thank you.”

  Her face turned serious. “You are welcome.”

  Joe pointed to a large sofa near the fireplace. “Alena, this is a good time for you to join the conversation.” He glanced at Gerrit. “Let’s get comfortable while we try to bring you up to speed.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to stand a bit longer, try to get my sea legs back. Why don’t you guys have a seat and tell me what I’ve been missing for the last seven years.”

  They sat down and Joe started in. “First, let me fill you in on some background. While I tried to sort out what happened in Seattle, Travis reached out to an FBI contact he worked with a few years ago here in Idaho, a guy named Beck Malloy. This agent is like a ghost—pops here, there, everywhere, and then disappears again. Back then I wondered if he really was with the FBI.”

  “Is he?” Gerrit asked. “I really need to know about the people I’ll be depending on to stay alive. You’ve got this guy Travis, plus an Indian tribal police chief and his daughter. Man, it’s like some kind of family get-together around here. I don’t know any of these people. I’m supposed to be dead. I wanna keep it that way until I can fit these pieces together.”

  “Funny you should use the term family, because that is exactly what we’ve become. One extended family. I trust Travis and his friends with my life. They’ve proven they’re trustworthy. You’re the last member of my physical family, Gerrit. I would never endanger you again.”

  Gerrit frowned. “Again?”

  Joe nodded, looking over
at Alena for a moment. “After Malloy hooked me up with the U.S. Marshal’s office, I quickly realized that my life—as I knew it back then—was over. I needed to recreate myself if I was going stay alive—just like you will.”

  “So you became Joseph Costello. Wanted to keep that Irish thing going?”

  That drew a smile. “Not many people would know Costello is an Irish name. Once Irish, always Irish. No better calling, me ‘boy.”

  They heard Travis and the others coming up the pathway. Alena pushed herself off the sofa and went outside. He heard her talking to the others. They began to walk away as Alena rejoined Joe and Gerrit. “They’re going down to the river for a while. Give you more time to catch up.”

  Gerrit turned toward Joe. “So how did you endanger me?”

  “Not intentional. You were off in Iraq. Ironically, I learned that you might have been safer over there. Then you came to Seattle and became a cop. That changed everything.”

  “I came to Seattle to find my parents’ killer. And all the time you knew who that was? Too afraid to share it with me? Let me go for seven years without knowing why they lost their lives?” The anger in Gerrit’s voice made Joe flinch.

  Alena walked over and placed her hand on Gerrit’s arm. “That is not really fair. Your uncle did not know the details for several years. He is trying to explain. Give him a chance.”

  Her softly spoken words cooled his anger. “Sorry, Uncle Joe. Just tell me what happened.”

  The older man took a deep breath. “Malloy and I started from the beginning—the incident in Chicago. While I was off getting my features altered, he used his resources to start to put together what happened on that day I left Argonne National Laboratory. He collected surveillance footage—before and after I left—and captured information on both vehicles seen in the vicinity on several occasions. They must have been tracking my movements. He hunted down vehicle registration, credit-card use, and traffic-cam footage. He even returned to the scene where I was threatened and collected more evidence. From that, we started putting names and companies together to piecemeal the events in Chicago and Seattle.”