by Dee Davis
“Even after you married and moved on?” Tucker asked.
“Especially then. I was certain they’d come after me, or that someone else would come along with questions. But they never did. Until now.” She sat back, her keen gaze encompassing them both. “You said that the formula has resurfaced?”
“Word of it has.” Tucker nodded his head. “There seems to be some question about the actual formula.”
“That’s not surprising. I mean, the most likely people to have had it are both dead. So who do you believe has it?” Molly asked.
“We don’t know,” Tucker told her. “But someone was definitely trying to sell it. And now someone, possibly the same person, is trying to find it. And for obvious reasons, the search seems to be centering around Alexis.”
“They believe you have the formula,” she said, her gaze speculative. “And do you?”
“No,” Alexis replied. “I didn’t even know it still existed. But someone is definitely after me, and people are dying left and right. And if it hadn’t been for Tucker, I’m fairly certain I’d have been one of them.”
“But isn’t it counterproductive to kill you if they think you have the formula?” Molly asked, her gaze turning shrewd. “And furthermore, why would someone offer the formula for sale if they don’t have it?”
“Welcome to our world.” Tucker shrugged with a wry grin. “It seems like every time we think we have an answer to a question, ten more arise to take its place.”
“You think there’s more than one party involved.”
“Yes,” Tucker agreed. “And there’s some evidence to suggest that possibly the two groups aren’t after the same thing.”
“You think someone is after the formula, and someone else is trying to keep it buried.” Molly reached for the teapot to refill her cup.
“It would explain a lot. But we have no idea who either of these parties might be.”
“And you’re hoping I might be able to help.”
“If someone is trying to bury this recent activity surrounding the formula, it’d likely be someone who was involved with Omega and would have something to lose if that involvement was revealed now. Connection to a project like that in this political climate would be disastrous.”
“Indeed,” Molly agreed. “But it would be almost impossible to identify everyone who had some kind of connection to the project. Even something buried as deeply as Omega has to be approved, funded, and staffed. Which means there were people in all branches of the government who would have had to sign off on it.”
“Well, we know it has to be someone with high-ranking connections within the government,” Tucker said. “Or someone still on the inside with a high-level security clearance.”
“And we have a list of possibilities,” Alexis continued. “We just have no way of knowing if any of these people might have had a connection to Omega.”
“But I might.” Molly reached for the glasses that were hanging around her neck. “Let me see the list.”
Tucker dug it out of his pocket and passed it to her.
She studied it for a moment, then shook her head. “There are a couple of names here that might have had an indirect connection, but I wouldn’t have thought it would put their careers in jeopardy.”
“So we still have nothing,” Alexis said, frustration cresting.
“You didn’t let me finish, dear,” Molly said, lifting her gaze to meet Alexis’s. “There’s no one on this list. But there is someone who’d have a great deal to lose if his involvement went public. He was the administrative director of the project. And definitely someone who’d want to protect his reputation.”
“Who are we talking about?” Tucker asked.
“Bastion Carmichael,” Molly said.
“The governor of California?” Tucker asked, his frown indicating his disbelief. The man was a left-leaning liberal. Anti-war. And certainly against anything that might have to do with weapons development.
“People change,” Molly said. “At least if it serves their purposes. Even back then Carmichael was all about the power. And he was willing to do what it took to make certain he got it.”
“Were you suspicious of him at the time?” Tucker asked.
“Not specifically, no.”
“And if the formula were to be sold,” Tucker speculated, “and he were connected to the original fiasco that allowed it to be out there in the first place, he’d stand to lose quite a bit.”
“The government loves to create scapegoats,” Molly agreed with a sigh, suddenly looking every bit her seventy-five years. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have come forward all those years ago. But I was so afraid. People I loved had been murdered. And so I dug a deep hole and hid in it.”
“There’s no shame in protecting yourself,” Alexis said, meaning every word of it.
“Yes, but if I’d had more courage maybe your family would still be alive.”
CHAPTER 23
Sacramento, California
He wasn’t there,” Avery said, dropping down into the booth of the coffee shop, his frustration barely concealed. They’d left for Sacramento almost immediately after the meeting with Molly Dormond, Avery using his connections to arrange an appointment through Carmichael’s secretary.
Tucker frowned. “Do you think he knew why we were coming?” They’d decided to limit the initial contact to Avery, partially in an effort not to spook the man, but also to ascertain the lay of the land.
“I don’t see how,” Avery said. “I had Hannah arrange a cover concerning a problematic operation and the need for the state’s cooperation. Everything should have checked out if he tried to verify.”
“What did his assistant say?” Alexis asked, fidgeting with her straw, clearly disappointed with this latest development. Since arriving at Sunderland she’d been pulling away, the presence of Tucker’s colleagues straining the intimacy they’d developed on the road. Or maybe it was because he’d turned out to be employed by the very people she distrusted the most. Despite the fact that they’d spent a second amazing night together, he knew she still had doubts about him. But he’d hoped, somewhat irrationally, that their lovemaking would have helped her get past it.
“She said he called in sick,” Avery said, pulling Tucker from his thoughts. “Which could be the truth or a cover. Whichever it was, I don’t think the assistant was in on it. She was suitably apologetic. But that doesn’t change the fact that he wasn’t there. And if I had to call it, I’d say he knew exactly why I was coming.”
“Which means he knows the jig is up.” Tucker sat back, turning over the possibilities in his mind. “Which in turn could mean that he’s gone to ground. That’s what I’d do in his position. I mean, he did know I was involved with Alexis.” The words came out sounding more intimate than he’d meant them to. He stole a sideways glance at her. She was sitting next to him, but she hadn’t seemed to notice his turn of phrase.
“Unfortunately, I think you’re probably right. Between Molly identifying his involvement with Omega and Hannah connecting him to Dryker through the Nevada contractor they both worked for, I don’t think there’s any question about his guilt. It just surprises me. I’ve worked with the man a couple of times over the years, and although he was always a little too territorial for my liking, I’d never have figured him for a traitor.”
“It’s possible that, from his point of view, he believes he’s being patriotic. After all, initially Omega was a fully funded government operation. Any breech of protocol, like the threat from Alexis’s father, would have risked damaging the government’s reputation.”
Alexis sputtered as she took a sip of coffee. “What reputation? For years, the government has done exactly as it pleased, keeping its nasty little secrets from the very people it’s supposed to be serving and protecting. I hardly think that’s patriotic.”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to agree to disagree,” Avery said, his dark gaze solemn. “While there’s no question that there are people who use their
positions in the government as a springboard for political gain, I genuinely believe they’re in the minority. There are a lot of dedicated public servants who are genuinely committed to their country and the people they represent.”
“Well, clearly Bastion Carmichael isn’t one of them,” Alexis said, crossing her arms over her chest, her expression mutinous. “And that goes for the rest of the people who were behind the Omega Project. If nothing else, the whole thing was hypocritical. I mean, don’t we have treaties that are supposed to keep research like that from happening? How is what they were doing any different from Iran developing a nuclear bomb?”
“It isn’t.” Tucker shook his head. “And that’s why it was shut down. But there are always going to be things the government has to do that the people as a whole would prefer not to know about. Things that keep us safe and guarantee our freedom. The methodology may sometimes seem questionable, but sometimes there simply isn’t another way.”
“Like Avery said”—she glared, her shoulders rigid—“this is an area where we’re just going to have to disagree. My entire family was wiped out because some asshole somewhere decided it would be a good idea if we could eradicate our enemies with aerosolized biotoxins.”
“Yes, but it was your father’s research that made it possible in the first place.” He wasn’t sure exactly why he felt the need to press the issue.
“Theoretical research,” she said, her eyes narrowed in anger.
“Well, it won’t be theoretical if someone manages to sell the formula,” Avery interjected, his tone both calm and resolute, serving to deflate the anger arcing between them.
Alexis sighed with a tight nod. “So what do we do now, Avery?”
“We try to intercept Carmichael before he can completely fall off the grid.”
The more they attempted to find Carmichael, the more apparent it became that he was on the run. They’d tried the governor’s mansion, the family retreat, and even a second office Carmichael kept for personal business. So far nothing.
And almost everyone they’d come in contact with had seemed determined to shield the man. Alexis understood loyalty to family, but in this case it wasn’t working in her favor. Fortunately, a secretary—a clearly disgruntled one—had slipped out of the office to let them know that Carmichael had another house. One his wife wasn’t aware of.
The house, a Victorian near the governor’s mansion, was on H Street. The gracious white home sported a wraparound porch with curved staircases to either side and heavy garlands of ivy twining up supporting pillars. Potted geraniums flanked the double doors, an old miller’s bench sitting to one side, and Alexis wondered idly if it was real or only a reproduction.
While she and Avery approached the house from the front, Tucker had gone around back to make sure Carmichael, if he was indeed in residence, couldn’t slip out that way. At the top of the stairs the two of them paused, and Alexis marveled at how easily she’d accepted Avery’s presence.
The man, though formidable in size, had a quiet resolve that immediately set one at ease. She reminded herself that the last man she’d instinctively trusted had turned out to be a liar, but it didn’t change the fact that she was absolutely certain Avery Solomon was one of the good guys.
The thought wasn’t all that surprising, after all. Tucker had chosen to work with the man, but she was still having trouble getting her head around the idea that the very people she’d spent most of her life avoiding were now the ones trying to help her.
There was a lesson in there somewhere, but she wasn’t ready to explore it. Better to focus on finding Carmichael and convincing him to admit to his role in her father’s death. It had taken everything she had to convince Avery to bring her. This was most likely the man behind the attempts on her life, but she was her father’s daughter, and she wanted the chance to face Carmichael. Fortunately, Avery had acquiesced.
She reached for the bell but Avery shook his head, lifting a finger to his lips. He turned the doorknob, both of them surprised when the door silently swung open.
Leading with his gun, Avery stepped inside and then motioned for her to follow. She moved through the door into a foyer dominated by an ornately carved staircase. On the right side, the hallway opened out into a parlor, where the sun shone through the bay window, projecting a swath of light across the parquet floor. The house was quiet, the only sound the hushed ticking of the grandfather clock standing sentry at the foot of the stairs.
“Now what?” she mouthed almost at the same time as a noise emanated from upstairs.
“We go up,” Avery whispered. “Stay behind me. Okay?”
She nodded, already following him as they made their way up the stairs. The landing at the top led to a hallway with three rooms opening off it. The closest was a bathroom. Skirting it, Avery inched forward, swung into the open doorway next to it, and, after assuring it was empty, motioned her forward, pointing ahead to the door at the end of the hall.
He paused for a moment, speaking quietly into his com unit, no doubt notifying Tucker as to their whereabouts. Ahead of her a floorboard squeaked, and Avery was instantly back on alert. He held up a hand, signaling for her to wait, and then inched slowly forward, swinging into the room, gun at the ready. “Hold it right there,” Avery barked.
Alexis counted to three before springing into motion and then skidded to a stop in the open doorway, where Avery was holding an older man in khakis and a white button-down at gunpoint. The man was straddling the windowsill, half in and half out.
“It won’t do you any good to jump, Bastion,” Avery said, motioning with the gun for him to step back inside. “You’re liable to break a leg, and if you don’t, my man outside will still stop you. So better to just call it a day and come inside. We did have an appointment, after all.”
Carmichael narrowed his eyes, clearly considering his options, and then, with a brief shrug, swung his leg back into the room. “I’d rather hoped to avoid this conversation.”
“I would imagine so,” Avery said, not lowering his weapon. “But some things are inevitable, and this time I think you have some explaining to do.”
“There’s nothing to explain, because no matter what you think you know, you haven’t a shred of hard evidence.”
“Actually, I may not have everything, but I have enough,” Avery said as Tucker sprinted down the hall to stand beside Alexis. “I know that you have a long association with Peter Dryker. And I can confirm that you used an old contact within DOD to access CIA personnel files, allegedly on gubernatorial business. Interestingly, though, when I asked her, your secretary verified that the request was personal.”
“Does it matter?” Carmichael asked, eyeing the three of them. “My position allows me to review whatever files I see fit.”
“Perhaps, but it doesn’t allow you to pass that information on to civilians. Or to use them in an attempt to draw an innocent out into the open.”
“I don’t see any innocent people here,” Carmichael said, his speculative gaze falling on Alexis. “Do you know who she is?”
“I do,” Avery affirmed. “She’s Randolph Baker’s daughter. But unless you have substantially different information than we do, you’ve been chasing the wrong rabbit.”
“How do you know you’re not the ones being played?” Carmichael asked, his mouth twisting into a tight little smile. “I have it on good authority that she’s the one who has been trying to sell the formula.”
“I’m assuming you’re speaking of George Atterley?”
Fear flickered through Carmichael’s eyes, and Alexis counted one for the home team. In all probability, she was looking at the man who had murdered her family. Or at least the one who’d arranged for it. And now he was attempting to deflect their suspicions by accusing her.
“But I—” Carmichael started.
“Used an alias?” Avery finished for him. “I’m afraid my people are really good at sorting through the chaff. We know you visited George Atterley in prison—twice. And I’m cl
ose to being able to prove that you’re responsible for his early release.”
“Well, don’t bother. I’ll confirm it for you. I did talk to George. And, yes, I arranged for his release.”
“George is dead,” Alexis spit out, fury rising, the emotion making her reckless. “You killed him.”
“I most certainly did not,” Carmichael said, the shock in his voice sounding strangely believable. “Why would I do that? The man was helping me.”
“When was the last time you saw him?” Avery asked, motioning for Carmichael to sit down.
The room clearly served as a library. Bookcases lined all four walls, most of them packed to overflowing. The smell of musty paper filled the room, reminding Alexis of the public libraries she’d visited as a child with her mother. The only clear space on the walls was the window Carmichael had been trying to escape through. A leather-topped table sat in the center of the room, four armchairs arranged carefully around it. A shelf under the table was stacked with charts and maps and oversized books.
After Carmichael was seated, his back to the window, Avery and Alexis sat across from him, Avery still holding his gun. Tucker stayed on his feet, moving so that he stood between Carmichael and the door. “So I’ll repeat,” Avery said, “when did you last go to see Atterley?”
“About a month ago,” Carmichael replied, his gaze still locked on Alexis. He looked as if he’d like to pounce, and despite the fact that she had numbers, not to mention firepower, on her side, she shivered. “I’d heard that the Omega formula had surfaced. And that George’s name was attached to it. I did a little research and established the connection between Atterley and Baker. With Randolph out of the picture, George could, in fact, have had access to it.”
“My father was dead because you killed him,” Alexis whispered, still feeling like a butterfly stuck under a pin.
“Again, your accusations are misplaced,” Carmichael said, his eyes narrowing. “Your father was killed in an explosion. An accident, I’m told. I assure you I had nothing to do with it.”