The Compound: A Thriller

by Ben Follows

  He walked back to the living room with a fresh focus. Harold had placed a laptop on the table.

  Jake wiped it off and signed into their secure network, pulling up the video feed. Sarah and Harold positioned themselves behind him to watch.

  The video feed confirmed his worst fears. There were three people in his rooms, one of whom Jake recognized.

  “That’s Officer Obrasey,” he said, pointing her out as she stood near the door while the two suited men ripped apart the room. They ripped out drawers and looked behind them. They threw the sheets and mattress onto the floor. They laid down the suitcase from the closet onto the ground, delicately making certain they didn’t destroy what was inside. “She must be working with them.”

  “Those are the two FBI agents who took Nate and Oliver,” said Sarah. “I was sitting outside in the getaway car. When they were walking up behind me, these two suddenly came out of nowhere and snatched them up, throwing them into a passing truck. I think I was the only witness. I got the plates, but it wasn’t registered to anything.”

  “FBI snatch vehicle,” said Harold. “You’re certain it was those two?”

  “Positive. The moment it happened I called dispatch and the spent about half an hour being referred to superiors. Finally I got the director himself, who seemed like he’d been woken to take my call. Why the fuck is this a certification exam?”

  “Without the FBI it is,” said Harold. “I still think it’s a basic case of a man running off with a young, attractive woman who can give him things his wife can’t. The FBI just complicates matters. I noticed there was almost no media coverage coming out since the Crescent Point paper this morning. Good job, Jake. Sarah, deal with the FBI while Jake finishes up his test and proves that Frank Frederickson just ran off to Vegas.”

  Jake watched the video feed. The FBI agents finished their search of his room and took the suitcase with them. Obrasey looked back before she closed the door.

  Jake cleared his throat as the video feed cut out. “I went to speak with Mrs. Frederickson, and I spoke with Carl Magnusson, a good friend of Frank’s. Something more is going on here. Those pictures from the factory I took still haven’t been put through the facial recognition database, and I was being followed before Sarah picked me up.”

  “It’s true,” said Sarah. “I got a picture of the guy who was following you as well. He didn’t see me.”

  Harold nodded. “Let’s see it.”

  Sarah pulled her phone from her pocket and opened it to a picture of the man who had been following Jake. The moment he saw it, he froze.

  “Shit,” said Harold. “That’s Dimitri Kulovich. He was following you?”

  “Yes,” said Jake, exchanging glances with Sarah. “I showed you his picture before. Who is he?”

  “I didn’t recognize him before because the photo was such low quality. He worked for the same company that Frank Tanners managed. He was one of their assassins. He joined up after Frank Tanners disappeared, so I don’t know if Frank knows him. He had a falling out with the organization over some ten-year-old kid he killed after the kid saw a murder he committed. They were set to kill Dimitri themselves, but he went AWOL and he’s been off the grid for almost a year. If he’s involved with this, then you are right, Jake.”

  Harold paused, then added, “It also means you’re off the case.”

  “What?” said Jake. “You mean I have to head back to The Compound?”

  Harold shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do. You’re a rookie, and this is a live situation with assassins and FBI agents crawling all over it. You need to get out of here before you get killed or arrested.”

  At that moment Jake noted that he sounded for all the world like the kindly uncle the police department thought he was.

  Jake turned to Sarah. She shrugged. There was nothing she could do.

  “Harold,” said Jake, “I can do this. I need you to believe in me.”

  Harold looked at him skeptically but didn’t cut him off.

  “I made a few mistakes at the start of this assignment. I’ve learned, and I’m ready to make it better. I can be the best agent The Compound has ever had. You just need to trust me. I have the best training. I had the best marks at the academy. I can do this. Let me prove my worth.”

  Harold hesitated for a moment. “Sarah, did the director say anything about the chain of command on this assignment?”

  “None, sir.”

  “What do you think about Jake staying on the assignment? It would be unorthodox, but he’s right. If he can succeed here, that will be more than enough proof that he’s deserving.”

  Sarah nodded, smiling at Jake. “I think he’s right. But this isn’t a one-man job. Let me join him as his partner, instead of just support staff.”

  Harold nodded. “Jake, you understand the risks here? If you fail, you will be expected to retire yourself?”

  Jake swallowed, knowing the immense shame that was associated with such an act. “I understand.”

  Harold nodded. “Then it’s decided. Jake, we need to get you fitted for a poison cap on one of your teeth. I have the tools for you to do that here. Any objections, this is your last chance. From this moment on, you are for all intents and purposes a full agent.”

  Jake nodded, looking more sure than he felt. “I understand the risks, and I accept.”

  Harold nodded. “Follow me. You too, Sarah.”

  They walked into Harold’s bedroom, which consisted of a large oak upholstered bed with immaculate sheets, surrounded by side tables covered with various kinds of brandy.

  They walked into the large walk-in closet. All the clothing all along the walls looked like it had never been worn. Harold pushed closed a few drawers as he walked, making sure that Sarah and Jake didn’t walk into them.

  Harold went to the back of the closet and pulled an empty hook. The wall popped out, opening like a large door. He had to shove a few jackets out the way so the door could open all the way. Behind the door was a staircase like the one underneath Zeke’s video store, leading to another bunker.

  “What about Zeke?” said Jake as they followed Harold down the uneven stairs.

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Harold. “That loser would never go to the cops. He’s living his dream. The only way the feds will find him is if you left them any bread crumbs.” He raised an eyebrow, and Jake shook his head. “And even if they did find it, it would take them much longer to get through that door than it would take us to activate the self-destruct sequence.”

  At the bottom of the stairs, Harold scanned his eyes and his fingers before the gears ground within the door and it clicked open.

  They entered the bunker and closed the door behind them.

  “Grab everything you need for a stealth assault on the factory tomorrow morning. We need to find out if Dimitri Kulovich is involved in his disappearance, and if Frank Tanners is at the factory. I hope we can cross out that option, but we need to check it out. Hopefully, we can move onto the next step, that being killing anyone who knows anything about Frank Tanners being here. Is that understood?”

  Jake and Sarah nodded. She grinned, and Jake felt a comfort from working with a woman he considered family. They’d spent long nights in the dorms with Doug, talking about their idols. One of the names that came up over and over was Harold McMann. They had even made and printed out trading cards of their favorites, which they traded around the dorm. Doug had had one of the biggest collections; they’d been his most treasured possession.

  They gathered everything they needed and placed it into bags.

  Harold sat at the computer and connected Jake’s camera.

  The facial recognition software came through, and the profiles of Paul Vincent and Dirk Davidson appeared on the screen.

  Jake already knew all about Dirk, but he let Sarah and Harold read the entry before moving on.

  Paul Vincent seemed to be a normal banker. He was unmarried, with no kids. He had lost his job a year prior over an accusation that h
e had been stealing money from the bank and siphoning it off into a personal account, something the prosecution had never been able to prove.

  Finally, they read Dimitri Kulovich's file. Jake was shocked to find that the story he had told Chief Williams was mostly true. The only thing he'd left out were some key details, such as the fact that his father hadn’t just been accused of being a spy—there was concrete evidence that he had been selling Soviet secrets to both the Japanese and the Americans. He had created a fake identity as someone who didn’t care about politics. They’d been stopped by guards during their flight from the Soviet Union, leading to his father being killed to secure their escape. They had been given asylum in the United States because of the information hidden in their bags. Dimitri did have a degree in business administration. He was suspected of being involved in organized crime in Boston, New York, and Chicago. Nothing concrete, but enough that the FBI had been keeping an eye on him. Dimitri had purchased the factory with an amount of money suspiciously close to the amount Paul had been accused of stealing.

  Harold said, “I think that’s more than enough to start an investigation. Wouldn’t you two agree?”

  They nodded.

  “If you two are ready, all that’s left is to replace the cap on Jake’s tooth.”

  Jake sat in a chair in the center of the room and opened his mouth. Harold very delicately grabbed a pair of dental tweezers and squeezed both sides of Jake’s right frontal molar until the bottom half snapped off. Jake felt a small gush of liquid, which he knew to be water. It still caused a moment of panic. As soon as his adult teeth came in, his real tooth had been replaced with a cap. This was done in order to train agents to be gentle with it. Once the poison cap was installed, any source of consistent pressure, over the course of thirty seconds, would cause it to snap off, and the poison would slip down your throat. With the training cap, all that happened was a small splash of water, but enough to know you had failed and needed a new one. Jake had never needed a replacement, but Doug had accidentally popped his six times.

  Harold switched the cap with an identically sized one and pushed it on until they heard a click, signaling it was connected.

  “All right,” he said. “You’re all set.”

  He smiled, and Jake ran his tongue over the new tooth. It took an enormous amount of willpower not to reach into his mouth and see how it felt.

  “They still have the suitcase,” said Sarah, sitting in front of the computer. “It looks like they’re driving into downtown. Would you like to do the honors, Jake?”

  Jake stood, thankful for a distraction from his new tooth. “With pleasure,” he said. He walked over to the computer and clicked the button to initiate the destruction sequence for the briefcase.

  Chapter 16

  Obrasey was sitting in the passenger seat of the FBI vehicle beside Emerson. Thompson had elected to sit in the back seat beside the suitcase they’d found in Jake’s hotel room. Agatha had given them access to the room and told them all about her suspicions about Jake and the way he was acting strange the first day he came in.

  They’d barged in half expecting to find him there lying on the bed, but the room was empty. They spent the next half hour searching the room. The suitcase was the only point of suspicion. The agents stated that it was probably booby-trapped to destroy the evidence within if it was tampered with.

  They were bringing it to FBI experts. They’d learned from Agatha that Jake had left the hotel dressed in a fine suit. The chief had mentioned he seemed interested in Karen, so they were on their way to stop at the bar and try to find her.

  “Fuck!” Thompson screamed from the back seat. “Stop the car.”

  Emerson slammed on the brakes and steered onto the shoulder of the road. They were on the empty stretch of road between the beach and downtown. The only lights were those of the headlights and the moon when it came out from behind the dark clouds.

  Obrasey and Emerson looked back at Thompson in the back seat. He was clutching his hand, which was covered in burns.

  “That thing's burning. Get it out of the car!”

  Emerson reacted first and was around to the back door in a matter of seconds. He opened the door and went to grab the suitcase but immediately recoiled, grabbing his hand just as Thompson had.

  “It’s like a fucking barbecue!” he screamed.

  Thompson propped himself against the other door, yelled “Move!” and kicked the suitcase as hard as he could, sending it end over end out of the side of the car. It came to a stop on the gravel shoulder of the road. There were burn marks left on the back seat, through the leather seats and leaving red marks on the metal beneath. Thompson and Emerson both stood for a few seconds, breathing heavily and clutching their burned hands.

  Obrasey was sure they were overreacting until the suitcase caught fire, the exterior lighting like a torch and creating another source of light on the empty stretch of highway. The fire enveloped the suitcase, becoming larger and larger, like a bonfire. At no point was there any indication of what had been inside.

  “Extinguisher,” said Thompson flatly. “Trunk.”

  Obrasey reached across the driver’s seat and opened the trunk, jumped out of the car, grabbed the extinguisher from among the FBI equipment, and ran around the left side of the car. She sprayed the suitcase that had become a beacon visible for miles in every direction. Within thirty seconds the suitcase was covered in foam, and the car’s headlights and the moon resumed being the only sources of light.

  They stood there for a few moments before Thompson stepped out of the car and kicked the foam-covered remnants. “Stupid thing!”

  Emerson nodded to Obrasey, and they began clear away the foam. A few minutes later they had the metal box from within.

  Emerson got thick gloves from the trunk of the car and handed Thompson the medical kit before trying to open the box. He had no luck, and after they had been on the shoulder of the road for less than fifteen minutes, Emerson announced they were leaving and would leave the box here.

  “Shouldn’t we bring it with us?” said Obrasey.

  “Why?” said Emerson. “So we can show our superiors how we failed to bring back any evidence? How we injured ourselves? Looking at what happened, do you really think that there is anything salvageable inside that suitcase? Whoever these guys are, they know we’re coming. They know we’re here. They probably had cameras in that hotel room.”

  Obrasey nodded and helped Emerson shove the box down into the ditch, where it splashed up brown water among the weeds.

  She climbed into the passenger seat, Thompson sitting in the back bandaging his hand, and they pulled back onto the road. The optimistic atmosphere from before the suitcase had gone supernova was gone, replaced by silence and stoicism.

  Chapter 17

  Obrasey and the FBI agents arrived at the Crescent Point Bar just after nine. Karen was nowhere to be seen. Obrasey led the way through the bar; the FBI agents drew interested glances. She nodded and smiled to a few people she passed, but she didn’t say anything.

  They came to the bar and asked one of the other bartenders, Carmen, about Karen.

  “She wasn’t working tonight. She has a date with some dude, I think.”

  “Where?” asked Obrasey.

  “George’s Steakhouse, I think.”

  Another voice said, “Why are you looking for her?”

  Obrasey turned to the woman, a small blonde. “We need to talk to her.”

  The blonde said, "I’ve been texting with her all night, and I can tell you exactly where she is if you promise that you aren’t arresting her for something.”

  “We aren’t arresting her. We’re looking for a guy we think she was on a date with. Jake Lavelle.”

  “Yeah, that’s the guy. He never showed. Never even bothered to give her the decency of canceling. Just bailed.”

  Emerson cursed behind her.

  Obrasey looked over her shoulder then back to Carmen. “Where is she now?”

  “A
t her house. I can give you the address. You’re not arresting her?”

  “We just need to ask her a few questions.”

  Carmen bit her bottom lip then nodded. She gave them the address before saying she would text Karen to let her know they were coming. Obrasey saw no potential issues unless Karen was involved but said nothing before leaving the bar.

  Chapter 18

  Karen’s home was a one-story bungalow with a “room for rent” sign in the small front yard. Some of the flowers in her garden were wilting from lack of water.

  They knocked on the white door. A few moments later there was an answer. Karen stood in the doorway, She was still dressed in a formal black dress and had makeup on, but the makeup had run a bit.

  “Amanda, what are you doing here?" she said. "Who are they?”

  “We’d like to speak with you. These two men are from the FBI. We’re looking for information about Jake Lavelle.”

  “Are you serious? Carmen told me you were coming, but I thought she was messing with me. What did he do? He seemed like a nice guy.”

  Emerson stepped forward. “Special Agent Emerson, nice to meet you. We’re investigating a lead that Jake Lavelle is connected to the disappearance of Frank Frederickson. Do you mind if we come in and ask you a few questions?”

  Karen shrugged. “Can’t make my night any worse.” She turned and walked into the kitchen, leaving the door open. They followed her and sat around the small table. Karen was pouring herself a glass of wine, and it looked like it wasn’t her first.

  “Want some?” she asked. They declined, saying they were on the job. “More for me, I guess.”