by S. P. Perone
Remaining motionless for about five minutes, Max strained to hear any sounds that might give him an edge. Occasional footsteps assured him that there was only one agent. He gauged the distance as about twenty feet around the bend. With hand signals, he transmitted this information to Salomé. It was her job to take care of the agent; Max would take care of Sarah.
Finally, the sounds of someone emerging from the dining room reached them. The click of high heels indicated a brisk walk down the tunnel away from them. Slowly, casually, they turned the corner walking and gawking like tourists, deliberately avoiding any indication of their interest in the other two inhabitants of the tunnel. As they passed the FBI agent, Max fumbled with the winery pamphlet he had in his hand and dropped it forward, awkwardly stumbling while trying to catch it in mid-air. Lagging slightly behind, Salomé observed closely the agent’s eyes, hands, and feet. As soon as she observed a hint of motion of the agent’s hands and feet…automatic reaction to someone stumbling in front of him…she moved quickly. Like a sleek black panther, Salomé wrapped her left arm tightly under the agent’s chin, and brought her right arm up in a lightening-like move to draw a razor-sharp blade across his throat. Without a sound, the agent slumped in her arms, bleeding profusely, expiring rapidly.
Max recovered from his “stumble” and moved quickly towards Sarah, whose back remained turned to them, her cell phone held up to one ear. In a few long strides he was there. Hearing or sensing his approach, she turned. The wide eyes indicating recognition, and fear, she dropped her phone and opened her mouth to scream. With perfect timing, Max reached her and placed his hand, filled with a chloroform-soaked handkerchief, directly over her face. After a brief struggle, Sarah collapsed in his arms.
Quickly, he picked her up and retreated briskly down the passageway. Salomé left the dead agent on the ground, and led the way out. They hoped no one would be encountered; but, if anyone were unfortunate enough to cross their path, Salomé’s silenced Walther P99, 9mm would clear the way for them.
When they reached the winemaker’s entrance again, Salomé went out first, casually walking to the minivan. Backing it up all the way to the entrance, she opened the door and allowed Max to hustle out with Sarah in his arms. Salomé returned to the driver’s seat, Max to the front passenger seat, and they sped out of the parking lot with their prize. As they reached the end of the access road, before turning onto Tesla, Max reached into the glove compartment, took out the remote detonator, and pressed the button.
Nothing happened.
“Damn it! We’re too far away to get the signal into the cave. We’ll have to go back and get closer. Turn around.”
Sarah had slipped off without his noticing. Shane knew she needed to call Luci, and that she would prefer to be alone when she called. Fearing the worst news regarding Skeeter, she didn’t want anyone to see her get emotional.
But, now he was concerned. He shouldn’t have let her do this alone. Quietly, he stood up and slipped around the side of the long dining table, and walked toward the exit door nearest the food server’s entry. As he opened the door, he noticed that Sarah was nowhere toward the left between him and the exit to the tasting room. Assuming she had exited the tunnel in order to place her call, he took a step in the direction of the exit, turning his head to the right as he closed the door behind him. It was then he noticed the crumpled figure on the ground about twenty feet away. Rushing to the spot, he recognized David Johnstone, the FBI agent who had driven him and Sarah around San Francisco in the wee hours one night last week. Shane did not have to look at the large pool of blood on the ground to know that the man was dead.
Quickly running down the tunnel and calling out for Sarah, he concluded from the lack of a reply that she was not around. His first reaction was to run out of the building and try to find her. But, he stopped, ran back to the Cavern Room, and quickly related what he had found and that Sarah was apparently missing. At the sound of his raised voice, another FBI agent came running into the room from his post in the kitchen. A third agent was probably posted in the tasting room at the aperture leading to the Cavern Room.
The agent in the Cavern Room instructed the project team to get out of there quickly, and head down the passageway through the tasting room to the parking area. He barked at the food servers to vacate the Cavern Room, and stay in the kitchen. Then, he herded everyone out, exiting last when the room had been emptied. Just as they all exited the tunnel into the tasting room, a thunderous blast of sound and air hit them from behind, hurling them forward. Great clouds of rock and dust spewed out from the tunnel, much of it settling on the project team sprawled out on the tasting room floor.
Tony Shane was up on his feet quickly, heading for the exit. As he flew through the main doorway of the winery’s tourist center, Shane caught a glimpse of a dark minivan with smoked glass windows speeding down the long access road and turning sharply onto Tesla Road, headed west in the direction of Livermore. Within a few seconds he was in his rental car and had it headed down the same road.
Without a clue as to what he would do if he caught up with the minivan, Shane continued racing down Tesla Rd. The minivan was not in sight, and his speedometer showed his speed was seventy-five, about twenty miles over a reasonable safe speed. Coming around a sharp curve, and slowing down to sixty, he caught a glimpse of the minivan turning north on Greenville Road, headed perhaps for Interstate 580. Reaching for his cell phone, so that he could punch in 911, he discovered he had left it back at the Cavern Room. Briefly, his mind’s eye pictured the beautiful room reduced to a pile of rubble. He hoped no one had been hurt. Only then did it strike him that the explosion had been no accident…and he and his StarSight team members should all have been dead right now!
With the minivan maintaining a lead of half a mile, Shane continued to follow it at speeds up to ninety miles per hour along the five-mile stretch to the freeway. Following the minivan onto 580 west, he wondered if they were heading for San Francisco, Oakland or San Jose. He wouldn’t have a clue until they reached the 580–680 intersection.
As he speculated on their destination, Shane was shocked to see the minivan peel off the freeway at Airway boulevard and head South again. It was then he realized that the minivan was heading for the Livermore airport. A small suburban airport, it was nevertheless capable of handling small commercial airliners, and any one of a variety of private jet aircraft. Shane had a momentary burst of optimism. There was no way they could elude his pursuit if they had to transfer themselves to an airplane. He would be all over them. As he watched them flying down Airway, Shane began to plan how he would get help in confronting them.
It was then that he realized he didn’t know who “they” were. He had no direct evidence these were the perpetrators. Nor did he know whether Sarah was with them. Even up close he would not have been able to peer through the darkened glass of the minivan. One thing he was sure of. They knew he was pursuing them.
Again they surprised him by taking the opposite turn at the end of Airway Boulevard. Instead of turning left to the airport entrance, they had turned right into the parking lot of the Las Positas golf course. Briefly he lost sight of the minivan behind a clump of pine trees. Within seconds, having gained ground, Shane swerved into the same parking lot. Quickly scanning the lot, he spotted the minivan backed into a stall at the back of the lot. He saw a tall slender figure, dressed in black, exit the driver-side door, and run up into the wooded area at the edge of the 18thhole. Peering through the undarkened front windshield as he sped to the spot, Shane saw nobody remaining inside. Not slowing until reaching the parking slot left of the minivan, he screeched to a stop and jumped out of his car, running around the back and over to the passenger-side of the minivan. Without hesitating, he tugged on the sliding side door, and slid it completely open in an instant. There, on the middle seat, apparently unconscious, was Sarah. As he lunged into the car to check on her condition, and lift her out, he found himself angered that she had been dumped there without concer
n for comfort or modesty. Her long gray slit wool skirt had flown open, unknowingly placing her in a revealing and provocative position.
It was the last sight he would remember, as his next vision was of a burst of light and then sudden darkness with disappearing pinpoints of light. The resounding thud at the base of his skull shook him down to his toes, and he collapsed unconscious on the floor of the minivan. The last thought forming in his brain was,there must have been two of them .
Slowly, the pinpoints of light re-emerged in his dark field of vision. Eventually, he was aware of a completely white opaque fog in his mind’s eye. It was then that he attempted to open his eyes, to get a better look at this fog, and was startled to see brightly-colored moving shapes. Before he could make out what they were, his sense of sound was resurrected, and he began to associate specific noises with the various shapes he was observing.
“Dr. Shane, I presume,” the tall dark shape was saying. Who is he talking to? Who is here?he thought, as he slowly turned his head to see who else might be with him. The pain of this effort helped bring the shapes into focus, and he saw Sarah’s lovely face next to him…her eyes reflecting deep concern.
“Sarah?” he croaked, beginning to regain his senses. “Are you okay?”
“She’s fine, Shane,” the other voice said, causing Shane to turn his head back to the first shape he had seen. Now, he could see the face of the man they had once met as Michael Worth, standing tall above him. With hands on hips, and a triumphant smile on his face, this man was clearly indicating he was in charge.
Rapidly recovering his memory, Shane questioned his captor. “Who are you, Mr. Worth? And, what do you want from us?”
Throwing his head back with a laugh, Michael Worth returned his gaze to Shane and said, “I don’t want you at all, Dr. Shane. You’ve come along on this voyage totally uninvited. And, frankly, you’re on borrowed time right now.”
Only then did Shane begin to sense the rest of his surroundings. Glancing to the left and right, he realized they were in an airplane. A large private jet, possibly a twelve or thirteen-passenger aircraft. He recognized for the first time the feeling of motion, and concluded they were airborne. For how long, he did not know. Looking to the left at Sarah, he realized that she was restrained by handcuffs clipped to the armrest of her seat; and he discovered that he was likewise restrained. He saw no one else on the plane.
“As far as who I am,” his captor continued, “I’m sure you already know…don’t you, Dr. Shane?”
“You’re Max Winter, aren’t you? Formerly of CryptaGen Corp.?” Shane replied. “But why do you want us…or should I say, Sarah?”
“First of all, my name is not ‘Max Winter’…but it is the name I’ve been using for a while…so let’s just leave it at that. As far as why do I want Sarah…we’ve got a long trip ahead of us, and that’ll give us plenty of time to get to know each other. By the time we reach our destination, our lovely Sarah will know exactly why she has been abducted…and you, Dr. Shane, will also know your fate.”
With that, Max turned around and strode up to the front cabin. Shane could not see if a second person occupied the cabin, but saw Max apparently speak to someone in a seat out of sight behind a partition. Max took a seat, facing back towards the rear of the plane where Tony and Sarah were restrained. Placing his feet on the seat across from him, he picked up a newspaper and began to read.
“Tony,” Sarah whispered, getting his attention. “Tony, are you OK? You’ve got a nasty looking gash on the back of your head. There’s been some bleeding. How do you feel?”
“I’m fine, Sarah,” he replied. “I’ve got a headache, but I don’t feel dizzy or anything. How about you? You were unconscious when I found you in the minivan. What did they do to you?”
Sarah described what she could remember, up to the horror of awakening on the airplane next to an unconscious Tony Shane. Max had then engaged in a conversation with her similar to that he had had with Shane.
Speaking softly, they tried to recollect all the speculations that Carothers had shared with them regarding Max. They recalled Carothers believing that Max might be dealing with two different clients. One who wanted to sabotage the StarSight project at the right time; and one who wanted to steal the StarSight technology. Obviously, they concluded, Sarah’s abduction had to do with satisfying the latter client. Otherwise, she would be dead…just as all the rest would have been, had they not escaped from the deathtrap of the Cavern Room. It was a sobering thought. Even more chilling was the knowledge that Max had probably been responsible for the brutal sexual assault and murder of a female colleague back in Albuquerque.
Chapter 20
European Travel
Well before the bombing had occurred in California…when it was already late Wednesday afternoon in Switzerland…Carothers, the Senator, and Ellen had gathered in the Senator’s suite on the top floor of Zurich’s Hotel St. Gotthard. Here, they discussed the plans for Ellen’s engagement with Sharif that evening. The plans had been modified somewhat because of what Carothers and the Senator had learned from their phone call to Tony and Sarah. After briefing the President, Carothers’ subsequent conversation with Naval Intelligence had been very productive.
“We now know,” Carothers was saying, “that the Russian nuclear submarine,Skibirsk , has been on a course which could place it somewhere in the South Atlantic. This would place it in an ideal position to launch a medium-range ballistic missile at some target in the eastern U.S. We know that this submarine is not supposed to have any nuclear warheads on board for this trip, and that the Captain is Yuri Kirschnikov. If this submarine were involved in a terrorist operation, the Captain would have had to be bought out. From what we know, Kirschnikov…and most of the rest of the Russian naval officers…are not getting paid regularly, or well. And, this would not be the first example of one of their officers selling out. So, I think we have to assume we’ve got a renegade submarine captain, and a sub near our East Coast that may have smuggled a nuclear missile on board. We think he’s planning to get lost among all the British naval presence, so that we won’t be able to find them. The Joint Chiefs and the President are haggling over how best to counter this perceived threat. This is complicated by the presence of the British naval vessels in the area. We’re supposed to stay away; and nobody knows how much we should tell the Brits. So, let’s not count on the Navy getting there in time to save our butts.
“We’ll need to do whatever we can on this end to head off this possible missile launch. Our hypothesis is that Sharif is calling the shots. If this is true, I’m betting that Kirschnikov will have to contact him before launching the missile. Sharif will give the final OK.
“This is where you come in, Ellen. We know Sharif will be in his suite this evening, because he’s invited you to join him. That means he is expecting the call either before you arrive…or after you leave. We’re praying it will be after you leave…except, you’re not going to leave.
“What? What do you mean, Nathan?” Ellen asked, with an alarmed expression.
“Yes. What are you asking her to do, Nathan?” the Senator inquired with a look of shocked surprise on his face. They had not talked about this.
“I didn’t have a chance to talk to you about this,” Carothers responded softly. “I’m saturated with information, struggling to digest it in the past hour or two. It’s changed our plans. Everything is more urgent than we had imagined.”
Then, turning to Ellen, looking at her with those big dark brown eyes, Carothers began to speak in his most compassionate tone. “Ellen, I’m sorry to have to ask you to do this. But, we need you to stay with Sharif as long as necessary this evening…perhaps overnight. You can tell him that Gerry’s at a meeting in Geneva until tomorrow. We need for you to be there when he receives the call that we expect from Kirschnikov. When he excuses himself to take the call…or for whatever excuse he might give you…he will probably retreat to his office and close the door. When that happens, you will go to the fr
ont door and open it up. We’ll be there, and you can let us in. We’ll get into Sharif’s office and intercept the call.”
“My God, Nathan,” Ellen cried. “How can I stay there all night? Surely, he will expect me to be intimate with him…especially if I don’t show any inclination to leave.”
The Senator said nothing, but the stern look on his face betrayed his reluctance to let his wife undertake this new plan. Dinner with Sharif was one thing; spending the night was quite another. He waited to hear what Carothers had to say.
“Ellen,” he began, and then looking briefly over at his friend, “Gerry…both of you…I don’t know how this evening will turn out. But, I know…and you know…that what’s at stake here is more important by far than any one individual’s personal well-being.”
As he paused, searching in vain for some sign of acquiescence on their faces, Carothers decided to take another tack. “Of course, we still have the other option of taking Sharif and forcing him to call off the attack,” he stated tentatively.
The Senator began to speak, but stopped suddenly, as it dawned on him what Carothers was doing.The manipulative bastard , he thought.He knows we can’t do that. Now he’s waiting for Ellen to say it. The sonofabitch! And he knows I can’t say anything either.
“So, if you want to back out of this,” Carothers continued, “we will just follow through on Plan B.”
“But, what if he refuses to call it off?” Ellen asked. “What happens if the Captain calls and there’s no response?”