“Good idea, son,” Mervin says. He looks at Diane. “Can I offer you a coffee or something?”
“No thanks, I’m good.” Diane glances around the hallway. “I must say, you keep it tidy in here, Mervin. I’d have thought, with you boys together, the place would be all pizza boxes and empty beer bottles.”
Hank presses his lips together, thinking, That’s just rude. But Mervin laughs, loud and hearty, like Diane’s just told the best joke ever. “Well, this is a weekday—you should see the place on Friday night.”
Hank rolls his eyes and heads for the stairs. “I’m going up to my room,” he calls over his shoulder, but he doesn’t get a response; his dad and Diane are deep in conversation. “Oh, man,” he mutters. “I did not see that coming.”
When Hank gets to his room he doesn’t go inside but stands in the open doorway, looking around. The room isn’t his anymore. It’s like he’s standing in a museum and viewing a mocked up scene: an imaginary place that’s never known an actual occupant. The place is far too neat and well-ordered, too soulless; it looks vacant, uninhabited. If he pulls out a drawer he’ll see nothing but dust and discarded T-shirts, and if he opens the wardrobe, there’ll be nothing but naked coat hangers and empty space.
He lets out a sigh. “It’s not like I’m never coming back.” But how long will it be before he sleeps on the bed again? And will it still feel like home when he returns?
He walks over to the bed and sits down, perching on the edge of the mattress. And the stillness is shattered by someone knocking sharply on the front door below. The brutal sound is loud enough to echo through the whole house, and Hank’s breath catches in his chest.
This is it, he thinks. And then his dad is shouting up to him. “Hank! The car’s here. Are you ready?”
Hank stands slowly, taking one last look around the room. “Yeah,” he calls out. “I’m coming.” Then he leaves the room quickly, closing the door and hurrying down the stairs.
In the hallway, his dad and Diane are standing awkwardly, side by side. “I invited the driver in,” Mervin says, “but he wanted to wait outside.”
“OK.” Hank picks up his duffle bag then looks at his dad. “My backpack. I need my backpack.”
“All right, I’ll get it,” Mervin says, and he heads toward the front room.
“I should be making tracks myself,” Diane says.
Mervin stops walking. “Oh. Aren’t you going to ride along with us?”
Diane shakes her head. “Nope. I just stopped by to see Hank. Anyhow, aren’t you meant to be fetching his bag?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mervin says. He looks slightly put out, but he ducks into the front room obediently.
Diane gives Hank a broad smile. “Work hard, Hank. You know you can do it.” She looks around to check Mervin is out of earshot. “And don’t worry about your dad—he’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, I know,” Hank says. “I know.”
Mervin appears at the doorway, holding Hank’s backpack. “Here’s your bag, son. We’d better not keep everyone waiting.”
“I’ll let myself out,” Diane says. She steps up to the door and pulls it open, then she turns and gives Hank a smile. “Good luck, Hank. When you come back to see your old man, stop by the store and say hi, all right?”
“Sure,” Hank says. “When I get there, I’ll send you an email or something.”
Diane shakes her head. “No, you won’t. You’ll be too busy, but that’s just fine.” She looks at Mervin. “See you around.”
“Bye,” Mervin says. But Diane is already walking away, leaving the door open behind her. Mervin takes a deep breath. “Well, son, time to go.” He hands Hank the small backpack. “Here, you take this. Let me grab the big one.”
“OK,” Hank says. He slings the backpack’s straps over his shoulder. “We’d better get going.”
“Yep.” Mervin picks up the duffle bag. “Time to move out.”
Outside, the limousine is huge, and its elegant curved lines are out of place in a street full of workaday runabouts and family cars. “This is crazy,” Hank murmurs.
“It’s a Bentley,” Mervin says. “You won’t see many of those around here.”
The driver, standing quietly by the front of the car, gives them a polite nod. The man isn’t wearing a uniform, but his carefully pressed black suit, his royal blue tie and his pristine white shirt are the next best thing. He stands tall, his hands clasped in front of him, and he looks at Hank and Mervin as though he’s assessing them in some way. But when he speaks, his tone is warm and friendly. “Can I help you with your bags?”
Mervin gives Hank a look then says, “No, we’re good thanks.” And they walk toward the car.
***
The drive to the airport passes by in a flash, and while Hank looks out the window and watches the familiar streets flashing by, his dad sits in silence, as if deep in thought. When they pass the Lamplight Diner, Hank smiles, and he turns in his seat to keep an eye on the place as it fades into the distance. There are some things I’ll be glad to leave behind, he thinks. And he settles back into the luxurious upholstery of the seat and lets the journey slip away, enjoying the crisp freshness of the atmosphere in the air-conditioned car, with its reassuring scent of freshly polished leather.
“We’re almost there,” Mervin says.
Hank sits up with a start and peers out the window. The terminal is just ahead, and its glass-fronted buildings loom large as the car speeds onward.
Hank’s mouth is dry. This is real. This is happening right now. He’s leaving his home, his family, his town. He looks around and his dad is watching him from beneath lowered eyebrows.
“It’s fine, son,” Mervin says. “You’ll be fine. Just enjoy it. It’s not every day you get the VIP treatment.”
“Yeah.” Hank forces a smile and looks out the window. The car is taking them away from the main entrance, along a narrow side road. “Are we going the wrong way?” he asks, and although he keeps his voice low, the driver must hear him because he looks up and catches Hank’s eye in the rear view mirror.
“We don’t need to use the public terminal,” the driver says casually. “We have a special arrangement. I’ll be driving you straight out onto the tarmac and someone will meet us there to carry out the formalities, check your passport and such.”
A flutter of panic stirs in Hank’s stomach and his hand goes to his pocket. “Passport. Where did I put it?”
“Relax,” Mervin says. “It’s in your backpack. I checked before we left the house.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot.” Hank slumps back in the seat. “This is weird.”
“Don’t worry about it,” the driver says. “You’ll soon get used to this kind of special treatment.”
“I doubt that,” Hank says as the car whisks them away from the crowded buildings and out toward the vast emptiness of the runway. “I doubt that very much.”
***
The car glides to a stop beside a sleek, white jet, and Hank can hardly tear his eyes away from the plane’s perfect symmetry. Its wingtips sweep upward at a graceful angle, and the twin engines, mounted at the tail, have an aura of impossible power.
“Is that a Gulfstream?” Hank asks.
“Oh yes,” Mervin replies.
“Yep, that’s your ride,” the driver says. He climbs out the car and opens the rear doors for Hank and Mervin, then he sets about unloading Hank’s duffle bag. A couple of airport officials are already waiting—a man and a woman—and while the man hurries forward and fusses over Hank’s bag, the woman steps forward and gives Hank a smile. She’s holding a tablet computer and she looks down at the screen and says, “Hank Settler?”
“That’s right,” Hank says. “I’ve got a letter from the Trust somewhere if you need to see it.”
The woman looks up and smiles. “No, that won’t be necessary. I just need to check your passport.”
“Sure.” Hank rummages in his backpack and holds out his shiny new passport. “I only just got it. I thou
ght it might not arrive in time, but it came real quick.”
The woman takes his passport and studies it, then she looks at her screen again. “It was expedited,” she states as she hands the passport back to Hank. “Enjoy your flight, Mr. Settler. I believe most of the other passengers are already on board.” She looks away before Hank can say anything, and she turns to her colleague. “Everything OK?”
The man nods. “Yes. They’re good to go.”
“All right,” the woman says. “You’re free to board.”
Hank looks up at his dad. “I guess I’d better get on the plane.”
Mervin smiles and says, “Come here.”
Hank steps closer and lets his dad’s arms enfold him. Mervin pats him on the back for a moment and then pushes him away. “You go ahead now, son, and get on that plane. But you take care of yourself. And call me when you get there, all right? As soon as you can.”
“You bet,” Hank says.
“Don’t worry about the time difference or any of that. Just call, OK?”
Hank takes a step back, his mind spinning. There’s no going back, he tells himself. The moment I step on that plane, I’ll be committed. “I’ll call, Dad. Soon as I can.”
“Go on, then,” Mervin says. “I can’t stand around here all day—I should be on my way to work by now.”
Hank laughs. “All right, I’ll go.” He walks to the bottom of the plane’s stairs, then he looks back and gives his dad a last wave. “Bye, Dad. We’ll talk real soon.” And as soon as Mervin returns his wave, Hank turns and hurries up the stairs, hardly looking where he’s going. At the top of the stairs, he casts a glance back over his shoulder, but his dad must already be inside the car because the Bentley is rolling smoothly away across the tarmac.
Here goes nothing, Hank thinks, and he steps into the cabin.
CHAPTER 23
STEWART LETS HIMSELF INTO EILEEN’S LAB and closes the door quietly behind him. At the back of the room, near the lockers, a man in a dark suit turns around sharply to face him. “Colonel, I hope you’ve come to give me some good news.”
Stewart shakes his head sadly. “I’m afraid not, Gordon. I’ve found nothing in the data. I’ve been poring over it day and night, but I’ve found nothing even remotely useful. How about the search? Any clues?”
Gordon crosses the room to meet him. “The trail’s going cold. It’s been three days, and whatever we try, we keep coming up empty. I’m probably wasting my time going through this room again, but we could really use a new lead.”
“Something will turn up, Gordon. I’ve got every faith in your team. If anyone can find her, you can.”
“Thanks.” Gordon gestures toward the empty room. “I hear this is your lab now. You’re taking Ms. Barber’s place.”
Stewart raises an eyebrow. “Yes, we’re going to tell the staff later today. We decided to let a few days go by before we made it official—we didn’t want it to seem too sudden. But you knew already?”
“You know how it is, sir. Mr. Brunner likes to keep his finger on the pulse, and he never hesitates in keeping us up to speed—day and night.”
“I’m sure. I’ve had a few calls from Stradford myself.”
Gordon nods slowly. “The pressure’s on, all right. But we’ll find her. Eventually.”
“That’s the spirit.” Stewart glances over Gordon’s shoulder. “Is there a particular reason you’re going over this room again? Anything I should know about?”
“No special reason. We’re just being thorough, that’s all, but I’ve found nothing new anyway.” Gordon hesitates, but his expression gives nothing away. “If it was up to me I’d close the whole site down and take this room apart piece by piece, but…” He shrugs.
“We have our orders,” Stewart says. “And now the new students are heading this way, so we’ll just have to make the best of it.”
Gordon shakes his head. “I don’t like this, Colonel. I don’t know exactly what Ms. Barber has done, and I don’t need to know, but I can’t understand how she got off the site and clean away without anyone seeing a thing.”
“She’s a very resourceful woman. And she’s as smart as they come. It’s no reflection on the security team, Gordon. I can’t tell you the details, not yet, but it looks like Eileen got herself mixed up with someone very dangerous, and I think she was in deep. But she must’ve known she’d be found out eventually, so she would’ve made an escape plan.”
“But there was no sign of her on the cameras, and according to the WPR logs, she didn’t even open any doors. So how did she manage to get out?”
“I don’t know. Did you succeed in tracing her phone?”
Gordon rocks back on his heels. “Yeah, we traced the signal back through a whole host of proxies, and the system says her phone is right here in this room. But I guess she must’ve spoofed it somehow because I’m damned if I can find it.”
Stewart allows himself a wry smile, but before he can speak, Gordon carries on.
“That reminds me. We did think there was one student unaccounted for—a guy in his final year called Marcus Holst. No one’s seen him for a while so we traced his phone and it was in his room.”
“What? Why did no one tell me about this?”
Gordon holds up his hand. “It’s OK. His friends all say he’s gone on a hike, and the logs show him walking off the site, so it all checks out. We checked the records on the reception desk in Northridge House, and they tell the same story, so we figured it’s just a coincidence.”
“OK,” Stewart says. “It sounds like you’ve got that covered. And don’t beat yourself up too much about Eileen. She knows our systems better than anyone. In fact, she’s probably the only person who could pull off such a miraculous disappearing act. It can’t have been easy.”
“I don’t know, but we’ll have to review our protocols. We can’t have this happen again. Not ever.” Gordon looks down for a second, and when he looks up, his eyes are clouded with self-doubt. “You know, when she got away, I was on duty. So I take this kind of personal.”
Stewart says nothing for a moment. “None of this is your fault, Gordon. Eileen fooled all of us. She took me in completely.”
Gordon purses his lips. “I heard about that. But with respect, it’s my job to make sure no one leaves this site without me knowing about it. And I still don’t see how she did it. It’s open country for miles. How could she get clean away like that?”
“I don’t know,” Stewart says slowly. He stares at Gordon. “Unless…is there some possibility that she’s still here?”
Gordon frowns, wrinkling his brow. “On the site? No. I don’t see how. We’ve had the whole team searching for days and they haven’t found a thing. And if she’d made herself a hiding place we’d have found it a long time ago—we shake this place down all the time.”
“All right, but what if she’s nearby?” Stewart sees a spark of interest in Gordon’s eyes. “We’re assuming she’s gone as far as possible, which means a vehicle of some sort. But you know as well as I do, that the best way to slip out unnoticed is on foot.”
“We have thought of that, sir. We’ve set up a perimeter. And we have patrols running around the clock.”
“But what if she isn’t trying to get away? What if she’s holed up somewhere nearby? You said it yourself—there’s a lot of open country to cover. If she plays her cards right, we could easily miss her out there.”
Gordon takes a breath. “I’ll look into it. But I have to say, the nights are getting cold. It’s tough out there.”
“Farm buildings? Shooting hides? She wouldn’t need much—just somewhere to keep out of sight in the daytime and to provide a little shelter at night.”
“We’ll look into it, Colonel. But Mr. Brunner…he doesn’t want to attract too much attention.”
“So no helicopters?”
“We’ve got a chopper flying over every night, as soon as it gets dark. They’ve got a thermal scanner that’ll pick up most anything alive. If you’re rig
ht, we’ll find her, and we’ll bring her in. You can be sure of that.”
“All right. I’ll let you get to it. I’m going to have a poke around and familiarize myself with the hardware. I’ve got to teach this stuff, so I’d better look like I know what I’m doing.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine, Colonel. We need the staff to look after the students. You can leave Ms. Barber to us.” He turns and heads for the door.
“Gordon, wait a minute,” Stewart calls out, and Gordon stops at the door and turns around. “If you find Eileen,” Stewart says, “or if you find anything suspicious at all, let me know.”
“I can’t make any promises, Stewart, but I’ll help you out if I can.” Then Gordon gives Stewart a curt nod and leaves the room.
Stewart stands still for a moment, collecting his thoughts. There are so many moving parts here, so many unknown factors. But he has to get to the bottom of it. He has to get the facts in order and impose some sort of structure. He needs to find the common thread that ties everything together.
The breach occurred in the jungle combat scenario and was probably triggered when someone used an illegal mod. In many ways, this breach is similar to Grimwood’s last attack. But in the past, Grimwood used a public game to draw people into his plans, and that’s a very different proposition to hacking into the heavily protected systems at Northridge. Nevertheless, the weak point in both attacks is the human element. Somebody somewhere wants something, Stewart thinks. And Grimwood has dangled it in front of them.
Stewart moves over to a neat semi-circle of chairs and takes a seat. He imagines himself in the class, taking part in a seminar or a presentation. Life was good for the students in Northridge: their needs were met, their futures assured. Yes, at times they were challenged, but they were also supported. If anyone struggled, they received the help they needed. So what could Grimwood use to tempt them? And what could make someone like Eileen risk everything?
The Trust (The Downlode Heroes Book 2) Page 17