Off the Grid (A Gerrit O'Rourke Novel)

by Young, Mark

  Beck had been watching over Gerrit ever since he came to know Joe. Now, Richard knew Gerrit was alive. That Gerrit was out there with information and skills that might expose Richard and his people. Unfortunately, Gerrit would now become Richard’s primary target, with all the forces that man could bring down. The odds seemed staggering.

  A helicopter rushed overhead, its rotors beating the air like a giant hummingbird on steroids. The craft headed toward the crime scene. He pulled out onto Capital Beltway, heading toward D.C.

  Last summer, he’d visited New York’s Metropolitan Museum where he saw the famous painting of Washington and his bedraggled troops crossing the Delaware to attack British troops. Badly outnumbered, badly in need of supplies, Washington and his Continental Army surprised the enemy and scored a resounding victory with all the odds against them. Just like Joe, Gerrit, and the others.

  As Beck sped toward the capital, he vowed he’d do everything in his power to even the score. Until they came for him.

  Chapter 37

  Richard Kane peered out the window as the helicopter made one more sweep over the senator’s residence. Red, blue, and white lights still flashed below, and men the size of black ants crawled around the crime scene. A block away, a parade of media vans blocked the residential street below like one huge parking lot.

  Twenty minutes later, Kane directed the pilot to set down at a landing site where a limousine waited. After telling the others to wait in the helicopter, he exited the aircraft and strode toward the car.

  He climbed into the vehicle, made sure he was alone, then opened up his laptop, waiting until the video-conferencing software kicked in. An Anthony Hopkins look-alike came on the screen, only he spoke with an Eastern European accent, his suit worth almost as much as the helicopter carrying Richard. “Where are we, Richard?”

  He straightened. “Senator Summers just passed on and a major investigation is underway.”

  “Were you able—?”

  “Cops too quick. Somebody tipped them off before the cleanup crew did their thing.”

  “Is there anything left behind that should concern us?”

  Richard shook his head. “Some damage to the front door and…the equipment we left behind. Stuart, I’m sure they’ll know it was not a suicide when everything is collected.”

  “Who alerted the authorities?”

  Richard tightened his jaw. “They got to the senator. And Summers shared enough information that we have a situation.”

  “About Megiddo?”

  “Not specifically, although he used the name. He gave up Albuquerque and the capabilities we’ve developed so we can kick off the project.”

  A heavy sigh came across the computer as Stuart breathed out. “Do we need to activate the protocol?”

  “No. No,” Richard said, shooting out the words like bullets. “I’ll get this under control. Minimize the damage.”

  “How do you propose to do that?” Stuart steepled his fingers, tapping impatiently. “It seems you’ve made several mistakes already. Who did Summers reveal all this information to?”

  Richard hesitated, not wanting to bring up the subject but knowing it must be answered. He shuddered to think of the consequences if Stuart found other sources. “We know for sure Gerrit survived the blast.”

  “How do we know?”

  “Gerrit confronted the senator in his home. Our spike mikes and video cams picked up his voice and image. Summers spilled this information to Gerrit after the man broke inside the senator’s house and waited for him to get home. We can only assume he was wired and transmitted everything that Summers revealed.”

  Another heavy sigh. “So we can assume this recording is in the hands of whom—FBI, Justice, DIA?”

  Richard hunched forward. “My guess is Joe O’Rourke is behind this. He has close ties with someone in the FBI, someone who’s been helping them elude my search teams.”

  “Do we know who this person might be?”

  “Not yet, but I have my suspicions. We’re working on that. If we can identify this FBI agent, we can use him to lead us back to Joe, Gerrit, and the others. This agent and Joe must have some way of communicating that our systems aren’t picking up.”

  Stuart leaned toward the camera. “Get on this, Kane, and sanitize…everything. Fast. We’re days away from springing Megiddo on the world. You have that long to make this good. Or else.”

  The screen went black.

  Richard closed the computer, exited the vehicle and climbed back into the helicopter. As the pilot took off, Richard stared out the thick-paned glass. The lights of the city glittered in the distance. Headlights from vehicles below moved quickly along major traffic arterials, pinpoints of light moving together like an army of fireflies in formation.

  Uneasy, he began to map out a plan in his mind, a plan that had so many variables, it made him dizzy trying to figure out each one. Gerrit already knew two weaknesses—Harrogate in England and the lab in Albuquerque. And his uncle was teaching him how to stay alive, to live off the grid, out of Richard’s reach.

  His one ace in the hole was the imbedded informant in Joe’s extended group of acquaintances. Unfortunately, the source must never contact Richard directly unless it was an extreme emergency. Joe O’Rourke and his sidekick Willy posed a threat with all their technological prowess. Richard and the source had to use an archaic communication system to stay in touch. In the past, the source would give him a summary of Joe’s activities after the fact. Until now, it helped Richard keep ahead of Joe’s meddling. Recent events changed everything. He must get to the source quicker, even if it meant burning that person’s cover.

  He clenched his hands in frustration. He would have to divide his people in two camps—one in England and the other in New Mexico. He would head for the United Kingdom and leave the other crew behind to cover the lab. Between them, they should be able to lock on to Joe’s small army, wherever they might be hiding.

  All this money and all these resources, and Joe still continued to elude capture. To be a royal pain in the backside. Richard must bring this to an end, to sanitize everyone and everything. Otherwise, Stuart and his organization would make sure that he would be the one taken off this planet.

  Permanently.

  Richard turned and beckoned to a woman seated behind him. He wanted her close enough so he could speak into her ear above the drum of the helicopter without the aid of headsets. He did not want others to hear. “Collette, can you hear me?”

  She drew even closer, leaning over the back of his chair.

  As he turned, his lips almost touched her left ear, the smell of jasmine filling his nostrils. “I need you to pull together a team and head down to Albuquerque. If I am not mistaken, our boy Gerrit and his new friends will be sniffing around down there trying to find out where our lab’s located. Retrieve whatever resources you need. Locate and take them out. Understood?”

  “I saw you take that call in the limo. Any trouble from the boss?”

  Shaking his head, Richard played down his fears. “Shoot, that ol’ boy thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow. I’ll take care of that end. You just find Gerrit, hear?”

  Collette gave him a slow smile. “Can I play with him first?”

  He smirked. “As long as he ends up dead, you can do whatever you want.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Consider it done. Where will you be?”

  “Going back home to England. Need to start ramping up our operations and tie up loose ends. Keep me advised.”

  “Always here to serve, Richard.” She smiled, languidly leaning back in her seat.

  He turned and eyed her curves with fond memories, then turned to face the pilot ahead, watching him manipulate the controls as they neared the airport. He must get to Harrogate and make sure it hasn’t been compromised. He could have kicked himself for taking Gerrit there. Richard had been so sure the man would work with them—given Marilynn’s not-so-subtle charms and other incentives—that he never even thought there
might be security issues. He’d misjudged the situation, and now the operation might be exposed.

  Trying to control his breathing, Richard leaned back and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the chopper. He trusted Collette’s skills and knew firsthand how deadly she could be. All sweet and nice on the outside, but as lethal as the unrestrained Ebola virus.

  Find Gerrit. Kill Gerrit. I will do the rest.

  He picked up his cell phone and quickly dialed a number. “Okay, here’s what I want you to do,” he said, as soon as the person on the other end answered. Richard laid out his plan.

  Chapter 38

  Richmond, Virginia

  Gerrit could smell snow in the air, cold air cutting into his nostrils like a razor. Since they’d pulled into a motel, he sensed the weather might worsen.

  Joe rented several adjoining rooms at the far end of the parking lot, away from noisy traffic and prying eyes. Gerrit felt a hand on his arm.

  “We need to talk.” His uncle led him away as the others grabbed their belongings and trudged to their rooms. “Come into my room for a minute.”

  Gerrit followed the older man up a flight of concrete stairs and into the room. Inside, Joe turned to Gerrit with a frown. “I’m putting you in charge of this trip to Albuquerque. Give you and the others a chance to work together.”

  “And where are you going?”

  “I’m heading to England. Kane’s shield of protection cracked just a tad when he took you to Harrogate. A mistake on his part. I want to take advantage.”

  “How do you plan on doing that?”

  “I actually have some friends stationed at the RAF Menwith Hill site. I plan on setting up surveillance capabilities to identify any visitors Kane might invite to his lair and establish traps to capture electronic communications with others in his group. This is the first time we have had an opportunity to systematically identify our enemy.”

  “Be careful. Are you taking anyone with you?”

  Joe shook his head. “Nah. You’ll need all hands on deck in Albuquerque. I’ll be fine. I’m not going to do a John Wayne on Kane’s place. Just try to find out what we’re up against.”

  As Gerrit turned to leave, doubts started to set in. Splitting up seemed risky. And Joe going solo in Harrogate seemed foolhardy. However, Joe had been doing this for some time. Better not question the teacher until Gerrit knew more.

  He got to the door when Joe spoke up. “Oh, wait. I forgot to give you a contact. An Albuquerque PD officer. Here’s his number. Tell him Joe sent you and that Oakland Raiders rule. He’ll get whatever you need. In fact, I’ll give him a quick call to get things started before I leave.”

  “And what’s his name?

  “Geronimo Sanchez.”

  Gerrit raised his eyebrows. “You’re kidding.”

  Joe laughed. “Nope. That’s his name. Just don’t try to shorten his name to Geri unless you want to tick him off. He hates it. His old man tagged him with it when Geronimo was young. Only his family gets away with calling him that.”

  Gerrit made his way to his own room and saw Alena waiting outside. She watched him unlock the door.

  “Joe, talk to you?”

  He nodded and gestured inside. “Wanna come in?”

  “Only if you leave the door open a crack.”

  He smiled. “Don’t trust me?”

  She just laughed.

  Gerrit grabbed his bag, followed her inside, and set it on the bed. “Joe said he’s headed to England—by himself.”

  “He told me.” She waited a moment. “That makes me uncomfortable. We have always worked together as a team.”

  Gerrit dragged a chair over for her, taking the edge of the bed for himself. “I don’t have a good feeling about it either. No one for back-up.”

  “I know, but he insisted. Claims we are going to need everyone to hit that lab in New Mexico. If we find it, that is. For all we know, Summers might have been, how do you say, full of it.”

  A knock on the door made Gerrit jerk. The door opened as Willy stuck his head inside. “Hey guys, turn on the tube. Our boy Gerrit’s on the news.”

  Alena and Gerrit exchanged looks. He sprang from the bed and switched on the television. A Fox News anchorman came on, peering into the camera while shuffling papers. “This just in from our reporter Kim Banks outside Seattle Police Department headquarters. Kim, what is the latest on the bombing and murder investigations?”

  “Well, Howard, Seattle PD gave a hurried briefing to the press with some surprising information just released. As you know, a joint local, state, and federal investigation has been underway into the brutal murders of federal prosecutor Marilynn Summers, Seattle detective Mark Taylor, and the supposed murder of SPD detective Gerrit O’Rourke, whose home was bombed and the remains of a body recovered among the ruins. And in a related story just in, we’ve learned Senator John Summers, father of Marilynn Summers, was found shot to death in his Bethesda, Maryland, residence.”

  The anchorman cut in. “You say the supposed death of Detective O’Rourke? Is there any doubt?”

  Kim smiled. “SPD spokesman Lieutenant Stan Cromwell brings us breaking news to answer that, Howard.”

  The screen switched to an earlier recording of Cromwell’s press conference. The lieutenant looked older, beaten up, his face contorted with exhaustion and concern. “We have just learned from the coroner’s office that the body found inside our detective’s resident is not that of Officer Gerrit O’Rourke. At this point, we do not know the whereabouts or well-being of Detective O’Rourke. All we can tell you is that the body found inside O’Rourke’s residence is that of an identified male adult. We will not be releasing the identity until after the next of kin is notified.”

  Kim, microphone in hand, cut in as the camera zoomed in on her. “There is some speculation that Detective Gerrit may be somehow connected to the deaths of his girlfriend, Marilynn Summers, and his partner, Mark Taylor.”

  “Any details, Kim?”

  The newswoman soberly looked into the camera. “Federal investigators learned that more than 500,000 dollars was wired into Detective O’Rourke’s account from an offshore business. Investigating further, it has been learned that the source of those funds was an import-export business under the control of a Russian organized-crime group.”

  “But didn’t O’Rourke just shoot and kill Russian crime boss Nico Petrosky?”

  “Sources close to the investigation believe there might be an internal struggle for power within that group. To create suspicion elsewhere, they may have paid Detective O’Rourke as a hired gun to eliminate competition.”

  “But wasn’t he a part of a larger task force, armed with a search warrant for that residence?”

  Kim nodded. “Yes. But it is believed that O’Rourke may have escalated the situation in order to take out Nico Petrosky.”

  “This is amazing. So, O’Rourke allegedly kills his girlfriend and partner and arranges for his houseboat to be blown up to make it look like he is also a target. Thank you Kim,” Howard said, looking solemnly into the camera while a shot of Senator Summers’s residence loomed in the background. “In other disturbing news, federal investigators are launching a full-court press into the killing of Senator Summers. Earlier this evening, there were reports that his shooting death may have been self-inflicted. However, we have learned from sources close to the investigation that the senator’s death has been ruled a homicide. The FBI is heading up this multiagency investigation, and they remain tight-lipped about the case. No suspects have been identified at this time.”

  Howard looked down for a moment as if reflecting on his next words, his brow furrowed. “We can only speculate as to the connection between Senator Summers’s death and those in the Seattle area. Two members of the Summers family eliminated in less than a week.”

  Gerrit stood and turned off the television, just as Joe came into the room, Redneck trailing behind. Gerrit looked at the rest of the group in his motel room. “Well, Kane has just put a targ
et on my back. Every law enforcement agency in the country will be looking to get their hands on me. I would imagine a BOLO is already out.”

  They looked at Joe. Alena spoke first. “Do we call off this trip to Albuquerque and lay low until we can find out what this is all about?”

  Joe raised himself up on his toes, as if exercising a cramp. “Nah, we keep pushing ahead. Laying low is just what Kane wants—to force us into hiding while he tries to clean up his mess. In the meantime, he will be doing everything he can to find us and squash that recording between Gerrit and the senator. Kane’s running scared.”

  “While he is doing all that,” Gerrit said, “I’ll try to stay out of jail.”

  Redneck bumped his shoulder. “Hey, Mr. G, jail’s not that bad. Three straight meals a day and all the sleep you want.” He winked at Gerrit. “You might learn to like it.”

  Gerrit grimaced. “If I land in jail…if any of us land in jail, we’ll be dead. Kane wants to terminate us. And he’ll do whatever it takes to hunt us down.”

  Joe smiled. “I finally made a believer out of you.”

  Gerrit shrugged. “I’ve just seen how far Kane will go.”

  An uneasy silence settled on the group. Joe jerked his thumb toward the doorway. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

  Gerrit watched them solemnly wander out of his room, Joe giving Gerrit a nod before shutting the door.

  Joe had placed Gerrit in charge of this operation. It felt like he was back in the military, preparing to go behind enemy lines once again. But now he was leading a group of civilians who seemed to have no training for this kind of challenge.

  He hoped they’d make it back alive.

  Joe watched his team board the jet bound for Albuquerque. As the stairs retracted, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a preprogrammed number. A moment later Beck Malloy’s voice came on the line.

  “Beck, they’re just leaving for the lab in New Mexico. I am on my way to check out the jackal’s den in Harrogate. I’ll keep in touch.”