The Carbon Cross (The Carbon Series Book 2)

by Randy Dutton

  Her smile widened with affirmation. “Agreeableness. Try that one.” Her brow lifted.

  “I’d put you in the middle. You’re agreeable as long as people recognize you’re right.”

  She nodded. “The last one’s the toughest – Neuroticism, or let’s say, level of emotional stability.”

  His eyes drifted upward and his lips were tightly pressed.

  She broke the silence. “Since you’re contemplating a diplomatic answer, I’ll give you a pass on that. I’m not even sure myself.”

  His focus came back to her, and his smile returned. “Thanks for the out, but I’ll score you high on stability.”

  “Liar. You worry about me...a lot. Anyway, back to boxes, every mission has its own separate structure. My life with you and your family created another couple more, and you’re in several. Even each of the plagues has one. Now, some boxes relate to good times, some to bad. Each is separate, yet each can influence another...there’s spillover. When something good happens, other boxes with good experiences are reinforced in my mind. Same happens with bad experiences. Following me?”

  “So far.” He lightly caressed the back of her neck.

  “Here’s why you should be glad I put things in boxes. Highly self-complex people are thought to be at less risk of depression and mental illnesses because we separate the bad from the good, and focus on a select group. That means overall, we can manipulate our self-worth for the better.”

  “So there’s no downside?” he asked hopefully.

  “Actually there is. I don’t think my personality type has the means of being as happy as some others because we limit the relationships of the boxes. We suffer role conflicts, possible identity uncertainty, and competition.”

  “So sometimes you don’t know who you’re are supposed to be at a given time – wife or superhero?”

  “Kind of,” she chuckled, then clutched her chest and winced. “Please don’t make me laugh.”

  A moment later she had caught her breath, and continued, “Now consider those with lower self-complexity, who have generally happy lives and good social support.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. You guys are the happiest. You’ve put most of your attributes and experiences in fewer, but bigger, boxes. I occupy just one very large box in your life, everything good I do...and the bad. But you also have a large social support network of family and friends that I never had.”

  “Suddenly it’s starting to make sense.”

  “I knew it would. There’s a reason I don’t want to tell you all the bad things I’ve done.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You don’t compartmentalize. They’d occupy the same box, and...I’d be diminished in your mind.”

  “Never in a million years...put that to rest!” He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her, then leaned back, his hands still lightly holding her. “Do you worry about your sanity, Babe?”

  Her head dipped, then her moist eyes looked up into his. She softly replied, “Sometimes.... I’ve got too many bad boxes, and a lot of spillover.... Over the past couple months my dreams have been...unsettling. Some of the box walls are breaking down.” Her head tilted up. “But Pete?”

  “Yes?”

  “If it weren’t for you...I know I’d be lost.”

  “Anna, this is a little off topic, but earlier, you said there wasn’t much you wouldn’t try.... Did you ever do illegal drugs?”

  She slowly shook her head. “Progressives love their chemicals. Makes them feel good about themselves without having to acknowledge bad choices. I’ve been around a lot of drugs, but I like being in control too much...of myself and others.”

  She turned to watch the waves and felt the ferry rhythmically rolling side-to-side. She momentarily considered revealing how she provided drugs to manipulate and even eliminate others, then decided against it. “I’ve got a related theory.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When people do mind-altering drugs, the box walls crumble and more of the good mixes with the bad. There’s no longer the means of isolating the bad. Inhibitions are like box walls, when they’re gone, people lose sense of what they’re doing and who they are.”

  “Interesting theory.”

  And with that he held her tightly as they watched the ship’s wake add to the confused water. For Pete, as much as he enjoyed feeling the conversation helped him reconnect with his wife, getting off the ferry couldn’t come fast enough. He wanted to ditch the fake personas and plates. Once over the border, he felt a measure of normalcy might be possible.

  Chapter 57

  September 2, 0630 hours

  Spider

  Yoav slammed the secure phone into its cradle. He pushed his chair away from the workstation and hung his head backward, stretching. His sigh, coupled with the closed eyes, drew Collette’s attention.

  She rolled her chair over.

  Her brow lifted. “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s dead.” Yoav sounded defeated.

  “Anna?”

  His head slowly nodded.

  “But the Russians had her....”

  “They...” Yoav opened his eyes and looked at the woman with whom he had spent nearly every waking hour on this pursuit. “You don’t want to know.”

  “The hell I don’t!” She leaned forward. “I’ve been emotionally invested in this search from the start!”

  “And I don’t want to go through it twice.” He touched the intercom. “Mr. Swanepoel, I need you down here...it’s urgent.” He released the button.

  He looked over at his assistant. “Have everyone watch the Net for indications Anna’s files are being released. I’m giving everyone carte blanche to grab whatever’s being put out, then crash any site that shows a hint of the files.”

  “Any site?”

  “Yes. I don’t care if it’s an NSA server. When Gabriel shows up, I’ll brief him on the other search details, as well. This project may end soon, and unless he wants us following up on other leads we may be reassigned...or out of a job.”

  “We’ve still got Johansson to find. That would be a high priority.”

  “Not as high.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Sven’s hiding, but he doesn’t present a threat.” He motioned his head toward the other analysts at the far end. “Go tell them.... And get a couple coffees.”

  Doubt crossed her eyes.

  “Coffee’s a bad news lubricant,” Yoav explained.

  She grinned and rolled away.

  Gabriel entered the computer room minutes later. He took one look at Yoav’s dour expression and the proffered steaming cup, sat down and leaned forward. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

  Yoav took a sip from his cup and shook his head. “Anna’s dead.”

  Gabriel’s eyes flared and his teeth gritted. His fingers tapped the table in a forward roll as Yoav passed a stack of just-received photos.

  “Tell me everything.” Gabriel took a sip.

  “My contact told me the Russians had her secured in a sealed room and were questioning her about hacker attacks against their primary client—”

  “They did what?!”

  “They violated our instructions...and they know it.” Yoav took a deep breath and explained what led up to the fire and the Russian evacuation.

  Several minutes later, Yoav finished. “Everyone’s watching Net traffic for her files. They’ll grab what they can and crash anything suspicious.”

  Gabriel slowly leafed through the photos a second time, then sighed. “Where’s her body?”

  Yoav shrugged. “We don’t know. We’re monitoring all fire and police communications in that area. Their morgue only has one body so far...the Russian.”

  “Maybe she escaped.” Gabriel’s voice had a slightly hopeful tone.

  “According to my contact, Anna was in pretty bad shape, barely able to breathe.”

  “Could she have overcome the guard and slipped out?”

  “They coul
d hear”—Yoav choked back emotion—“anyway, her screams ended just before the flames erupted and engulfed the whole house.”

  “Why didn’t they try to rescue her?”

  “They tried, but the room was locked and blocked from the inside with no way out. Seconds later the fire was too intense.”

  “Damn those criminals!”

  “I’ve instructed Duke to review the farmhouse details and confirm. He’s still hours away. We’ll have more by the end of the day.”

  “And the Russians?”

  “They bugged out for the airport as the RCMP approached the fire. Their cargo plane’s heading to Vladivostok to avoid political fallout over the deaths.”

  “And my wrath.... The boss will go ballistic.”

  Yoav motioned up at the Krugerrand monitoring screen. “Shall I shut it down?”

  Gabriel studied it. “If all 300 had been accounted for, I’d say yes.”

  “She probably never gave away the last two.”

  “Leave it up a while longer.... Any good news on other projects?”

  Yoav shrugged. “Nothing direct on Sven but we do have information on related issues....” He continued briefing for another half hour.

  Chapter 58

  September 1, 2030 hours

  Northern Olympic Peninsula

  The couple disembarked onto the Olympic Peninsula. Finding a refuge was Pete’s first concern.

  Anna just lay back in the seat. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was still shallow.

  “How’s your chest?” Pete was scanning traffic to see if any vehicle might be following them.

  “You’re going to keep asking me that aren’t you?” A weak smile formed. “Actually...I like that you ask.... Yeah, it still hurts. The bean bag hadn’t fully spread out when it hit. Boris was too close. Lower, and he might have bruised my sternum. I think I’ve got a mild pulmonary contusion.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “The shock wave slammed my lungs against my back. As long as I’m not coughing up blood or my skin turns blue, I’ll probably be alright. The next three days will tell.”

  “I should take you to the hospital.”

  “No!” Her eyes opened and her response softened. “Anyway, there’s little they could do, unless the symptoms get worse. And somebody may be watching.”

  “Then I’m taking us someplace quiet where you can rest.”

  She feebly nodded and closed her eyes.

  When they turned onto the main highway, he drove west. It was a one hour drive to Sol Duc Resort, an isolated lodge deep in the Olympic Mountains on a dead-end river road. Its allure was the natural hot springs. What they both needed was serenity and relaxation.

  Anna’s eyes opened and her smile widened as they entered the picturesque Sol Duc River valley.

  Pete checked them into one of the many rustic cabins for maximum privacy. Once ensconced, he asked, “Interested in soaking in the natural hot spring water?”

  She was unpacking. “How hot?”

  “Your choice, Goldilocks. A warm 99, a hot 101, or a scalding 104.”

  “Guess which I want?” She smiled.

  “The middle.”

  “You know me so well.”

  “That’s yet to be established. But...I’m committed to trying.”

  “I’m counting on that.” She gave him a long kiss. “But I want a shower first.” As she stripped off her clothes, the full extent of bruising became evident.

  His eyes narrowed. “Did they beat you?”

  “A little, particularly the brute I tasered. He was the one you hit in the shoulder with the stun shot...and now is the burnt corpse.”

  “Sorry.” His lips pursed together remorsefully.

  “For what?”

  “Not getting to you in time.”

  “With what? A taser?”

  “I had a pistol and shotgun.”

  “You were outnumbered. They would have killed you. Me, they wanted alive. I counted on that if I hadn’t gotten them first. Ultimately, I got much of what I wanted.”

  “Information?”

  “Right. The Russian financiers are pissed at my hackers and someone put out a bounty on my alter ego.”

  “Think the psychotic comment means Swanson?”

  “Possibly Gabriel...interesting that he wanted to protect Swanson by not revealing my real identity to the Russians.”

  “Was getting captured worth it?”

  “I think so. And if your Plan C, faking my death, works...definitely.”

  “Think there’s a chance the goon lived?”

  She shook her head. “I hope not! His eyes and mouth were superglued shut, so if he had woken, he would have been completely disoriented and unable to call for help. The volume of old wood and construction material underneath, accelerated by my breaking the propane line, probably only gave him a half minute tops.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t zip-tie or duct tape him.”

  “I didn’t want evidence of an escape in the ashes. I doubt superglue residue will be found.” She looked up at him with worry. “Pete, are you upset I probably killed him?”

  “Upset that the guy planning on raping you died? Hell no! If the taser hadn’t worked I would have shot him in the back of the head.”

  Her expression relaxed. “Thanks for understanding,” she said softly, then winced in pain once more.

  “Would a massage help?” he asked with concern.

  Her brow lifted. “You want to give my poor, beaten body more pressure? You know I love your massages, Honey”—she slowly shook her head—“but I’ll pass.”

  “Anna, I was thinking of a professional masseuse. They’ve got one here.”

  She smiled at the thought. “Maybe in a couple days. I want to ensure the blood vessel bleeding has stopped. As irresistible as it sounds, I should avoid the hot springs – it promotes blood flow and leakage. Think I’ll start off in the cooler, baby bear pool...but”—she looked down at her naked body—“I’ll wear a tee and wrap to cover most of the injuries.” She chuckled then winced once more.

  Chapter 59

  September 2, 1000 hours

  The Spider

  “Alexis, the Russian caught Anna.” Gabriel voice was sad and his eyes were downcast as he poured a glass of vodka from the ever present bottle.

  Swanson’s eyes lit up. “About time! Where?”

  Gabriel’s voice was hesitant. “British Columbia. Anna was using a fake name and in disguise. She surfaced when a kid submitted a photo to a beauty contest site, then our team tracked her from a Montana border crossing to Alberta.”

  Swanson appeared confused. “Are you sure it was her? Montana’s not the kind of place she’d go unless she was on a mission.”

  “I saw the contest photo – definitely her.” His voice wavered as he flipped the image of Anna’s wide smile onto the wall display.

  “Yes, that’s her!” Swanson’s eye rounded with excitement.

  Gabriel took a gulp from the glass. He flipped up another photo. “This was what the Russian’s sent.” He said wistfully, “As you can see, her hair’s the same wavy blond as Anna’s, and it’s matted with blood.”

  Gabriel flicked another photo next to the first. A large fist had clamped onto her tangled blond hair from behind to expose her face, and her bruised and scratched cheeks. The eye sockets were dark and her eyes half open.

  “This was the cell phone photo the Russians took before the interrogation—”

  Swanson slammed his glass on the table. “They weren’t supposed to interrogate!”

  “Well, they did. The photo’s not great but even with the dirt on her face, it looks like her. Her evasive actions fit. The Russians injured her when she tried to capture one of them.”

  Gabriel placed more photos on the table. “She had a switchblade that looks identical to one I sold her. And she was with a guy also using an alias.” He emitted a shallow chuckle. “Leave it to Anna to have fun with fake names – Holly Robinson, the original
Catwoman, and Bob Kane, her creator.”

  “Who’s he really?”

  “We don’t know, and his face didn’t come up on facial recognition software. Probably because of the beard, hat, and glasses. We’re trying to identify him, but all that may be moot.”

  Swanson puffed on his cigar and leaned forward. “Why?!”

  Gabriel poured himself another drink then took a swallow. “Because the Russians say she died in a farmhouse fire during—” Gabriel looked downward. He bit his lip and his hand shook slightly.

  “During what?!” Swanson’s eyes were intense as he leaned even closer.

  His eyes lifted. “One of the guards was having his way with her during the interrogation. The farmhouse was a hundred years old—”

  “So what?!”

  “Somehow a propane leak under the house ignited the old wood.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences!”

  “My Russian contact says for some reason the door was jammed so no rescue could be conducted.”

  “The guard probably locked it for privacy,” Swanson growled.

  “That’s the presumption.”

  “She’s resourceful, and could have escaped.” Alexis brow lifted.

  “Doubtful. She was in a sealed room, solid wood door, and plywood over the windows, which the guards had in sight the whole time. In seconds, the building went up like a torch. He said both she and the guard must have died, and his team had to flee the scene when the Mounties approached.”

  Swanson exhaled a deep breath. “Well, get a copy of the autopsy.”

  “That may be a problem, Boss.”

  “Why?”

  “A large propane tank next to the building exploded and leveled the mostly-charred structure. That scattered evidence and set the adjoining forest on fire. If we tell the investigators there should be two bodies, we expose ourselves.”

  Swanson’s blanched expression slowly changed to a sneer. “Damn the Russians! Her threat against me might be initiated. And they denied me the opportunity to confront her!”