The Tenth Cycle: A Thriller (A Rossler Foundation Mystery Book 1)

by JC Ryan

  “It’s my understanding that you consider Miss Clarke a suspect, which is in and of itself plenty of reason for her to have an attorney. I also understand that Mr. Rossler has allowed you to search the house without a warrant. That would not be my choice, but since he assures me that she is likely a victim, and her father has no objections, you may go ahead. But you may take nothing without showing it to me first, and giving a receipt.”

  Jackson had no choice but to accept the terms or go back for the search warrant after all. Grudgingly, he nodded, then waved his team forward. The search was very thorough. Daniel held his breath as the nightstand drawer was opened. Would there be a trace of gun oil inside? A stray bullet? But the officer moved on without comment. Daniel was relieved that they had already removed the flash drive when another officer used a slotted spoon from Sarah’s utensils to plow through all her canisters.

  He wanted to talk to Luke about it before he revealed to police that he and Sarah had information that he thought had gotten both Mark Simms and Alan Barry killed. And Sarah kidnapped. Even though Luke had told them that the CIA’s interest was benign, and that if they came too close to something dangerous, the Company would offer them a deal, not kill everyone involved, Daniel was now almost as paranoid as Raj. He trusted no one except Ryan, Luke, and Raj. He devoutly hoped that Sarah would have the presence of mind to do whatever would save her life. The only trouble was, he didn’t know whether that would be to turn over the formula for the code, or refuse to give her captors any information. That was another thing to discuss with Luke, as soon as they were alone.

  The search was finished under the watchful eyes of John Leavitt, and officers only took the contents of her desk. The large monitor and docking station were of no use to them without the laptop, so they left those behind. Leavitt had looked at the papers they took from Sarah’s desk and said that he would want them photocopied immediately, in case the originals were lost or compromised. He asked Daniel to drive him to the police station to see that it was done properly. Then he would take a taxi to his office. On the way to the station, Leavitt questioned Daniel.

  “Can you tell me what this is all about?” His curiosity was apparent, but his words weren’t urgent. Daniel thought he wouldn’t press if refused.

  “I need to talk to Luke Clarke before I say anything specific,” Daniel answered. “But I think it has to do with some research that Sarah and I were doing. John, I’m terrified for her.” The emotion in the last sentence made Leavitt turn and examine Daniel’s profile.

  “Then I’d suggest you reveal to the police anything you know that may help find her. Whatever it is, it can’t be worth her life.”

  “That’s the trouble. I don’t know whether revealing it will help or put her in further danger. Thank you for coming so quickly. By the way, why did you have me give you a dollar?”

  “That was a retainer,” Leavitt grinned. “You got off cheap.” Daniel could only shake his head. The loss of Sarah, even temporarily, wasn’t what he’d call cheap, lawyer or no lawyer. Dropping Leavitt off at the curb, he hurried back to Sarah’s for a long-awaited planning session with the Clarke brothers.

  ~~~

  Daniel and the Clarkes hadn’t reached any other conclusions, except that Luke thought it would be best to get in touch with his CIA buddy David and let him know what had happened, assuming he didn’t already know. It stood to reason that if the CIA were monitoring Sarah’s and Daniel’s activities, they might even be able to trace her movements, if she had the presence of mind to keep her cell phone turned on. Assuming she still had it. But, before contacting David, Luke wanted a look at the crime scene. Daniel found no opening to question Luke about David’s odd behavior. He had more important things to think about now, anyway. They decided that as soon as they finished their lunch, Daniel would drive Ryan and Luke to the police station to have a conference with Sgt. Jackson.

  Half an hour later, Daniel was back at the station with the Clarkes, only to learn that Jackson was at the crime scene. They drove to the campus and parked, Daniel leading the way to the stately old building where Barry and Sarah both had their offices. On the first floor, they found a directory that led them to the third floor, where they found crime scene tape blocking the entrance to Barry’s office. However, the door was open and Daniel could see Jackson moving inside. Ryan called out to him, and Jackson came to the doorway.

  “What are you doing here? This is a crime scene, you can’t come in.” Ever the pleasant public servant.

  Ryan stated his case. “We’d just like to look around, see if we can spot anything of Sarah’s, maybe something the police wouldn’t recognize. Officer, I swear to you that Sarah did not commit this murder. We think, we’re certain, that she’s been kidnapped. If you’re a father, if you have any compassion at all, you’ll let us take a look. We promise not to touch anything. Your CSI unit already collected all the trace, am I correct?” Ryan’s voice was level, controlled, and authoritative, as befitted the CEO of a successful company. To Daniel’s amazement, Jackson responded to it with more grace than he expected.

  “I guess it can’t do any harm. And even though I don’t want you to touch anything, take some gloves.” He produced a box of them from a table next to the door and held it out for the three to each take a pair. After gloving up, they ducked under the crime scene tape and entered the room, skirting a chalk outline of something small near the door. Daniel knew that the smell of cordite was in his imagination. The murder had taken place the evening before, and too many people had been in and out of the office by now for the odor to linger. But, his stomach lurched as he took in the large bloodstain on the desk and the floor beneath. Barry’s blood.

  Even if he had been spying on them, the man was now dead, along with Mark Simms. What the hell had they discovered that could have created this outcome? And how could revealing it help Sarah now? Luke wanted to consult with David first, and Daniel had agreed, so he said nothing to Jackson about the research. The others were examining every inch of the large room, while conscientiously keeping their hands away from the surfaces. Remembering the small chalk circle near the door, Daniel went over and knelt on one knee to examine it more closely.

  “Luke, look here. Is this blood?” Luke came over and got down to see it more clearly himself.

  “Yes, I’m sure it is. Officer? Your team took a sample of this, I’m sure?”

  “Of course. We’re not the Keystone Kops.”

  Luke ignored the sarcasm. “I’m almost certain this is Sarah’s blood. Look, it’s right where she would have stopped if she saw Barry dead at his desk. Someone could have stepped from behind the door and coshed her while she was still in shock.” Daniel’s heart skipped a beat as he thought of Sarah injured, bleeding. At least this stain was small, perhaps it wasn’t very bad. Still, any injury to his Sarah was a stab to his soul.

  “How can we find out?” Daniel asked.

  Jackson answered without sarcasm for the first time since Daniel met him. “We took some hair from her brush, and we’ve got her toothbrush. Maybe there will be enough DNA on one of them to match up.”

  “Would a blood sample from me be of any use?” Ryan asked.

  “Could be. Let me call the lab. If so, we can put a rush on it.” Jackson’s about-face gave Daniel hope that the investigation would now turn toward finding and rescuing Sarah. He almost liked the man for a minute.

  Within a few more minutes, the Clarkes and Daniel agreed that they didn’t see anything else that could shed light on Sarah’s disappearance. Citing Occam’s razor, Luke declared that the simplest explanation was that Sarah had walked in on the killer, either before or after Barry’s death, and that for some reason the killer had kidnapped her rather than kill her. Jackson admitted that they had no motive, or only a very weak one, for Sarah to kill Barry. He was, after all, the head of the department where her tenure hearing was scheduled for the end of the week. Maybe she had discovered that he wouldn’t support it.

  “No,” D
aniel said. “She told me last week that he had said he would support it. She said he even hinted at a promotion as well.” Jackson’s thoughtful expression indicated he was beginning to take the idea more seriously. He locked the office door as they all trooped out and down the stairs to the parking lot. It was now late, the campus almost deserted and the parking lot nearly empty as they made their way toward their respective vehicles. Daniel thought of a question to ask Jackson and looked up from unlocking his door. What he saw made him forget the question.

  “Ryan! That’s Sarah’s car!” There, parked between Daniel’s car and Jackson’s but in a row one further from the building, was Sarah’s car. The three rushed over, catching Jackson’s attention. He followed, walking more sedately.

  “What’s going on?”

  “This is Sarah’s car,” Daniel explained. By this time they had reached the car, which was locked and revealed no trace of Sarah inside except an umbrella that she kept in the back seat for emergencies. Daniel recognized it and insisted, “It’s hers. I recognize her umbrella.”

  Ryan turned to Jackson. “For God’s sake, officer, didn’t you even look for her car?”

  Jackson had the grace to look abashed. “We assumed she was on the run in it. There’s an all-points bulletin out for it, but no reports.”

  “Of course there are no reports, it’s been sitting right here since yesterday,” Ryan huffed. His patience with the single-minded Jackson was at an end. “What are you waiting for? Pop the trunk.” Daniel’s blood went cold. If Sarah was in the trunk, it wasn’t likely she was alive after all this time. He couldn’t stand still as Jackson went to his car and retrieved a lock-pick kit. Instead, he paced back and forth beside the car, with Ryan and Luke watching him as if he might explode. At last, Jackson had the lock picked and was raising the lid. Daniel was afraid to look, but Ryan and Luke peered inside as the trunk lid came up. A relieved sigh from Ryan broke Daniel’s frozen state of anxiety. Sarah wasn’t in the trunk. In a way, it was almost worse than finding her there, though. Where was she? Who had her? And what were they doing to her?

  Chapter 33 – The Hostage

  Her head hurt. And it was dark, why was it so dark? As she slowly regained consciousness, she was bewildered. She was sure her eyes were open, but she could see nothing. Did it have something to do with her headache? A quick frisson of fear went through her as she wondered if she had gone blind. But no, wait. There was something pressing on her eyes. A blindfold? Her mind stopped there, the concept foreign. She was blindfolded. Moments later, she thought to ask herself why. It was difficult to think, to assign meaning to her condition. For now, she knew that her head hurt and she was blindfolded. And she didn’t know why. Her memory was a blank, and she realized that she didn’t know who she was, either. That was more frightening than the headache and the knowledge that she was blindfolded. In panic, she cried out, “Somebody! Help me!”

  It was only then that she realized her hands were tied behind her back, and that she was lying on something hard, on her side. Dimly, she realized that meant she was in some kind of trouble, but she had no idea what it could be, nor memory of how she had come to be in this situation. Her cries growing fainter after several minutes, she dissolved into tears instead. What was going on? Had someone left her here to die alone? A random thought brought her up short. Someone loved her. It was all she knew. Someone would be looking for her. Hope bloomed, and she quit crying. Now she was thirsty. Would someone ever come, bring her some water maybe?

  “Someone? I’m thirsty.”

  She didn’t know how long it was, but long enough, she thought, to have gone back to sleep for a while. With no memories to ponder, and no sensory input, she wasn’t even sure she had been asleep. Or that she wasn’t still asleep, and now dreaming. But she thought she heard a noise.

  “Sarah, I have some water for you. Do you think you can wake up now?”

  Sarah, she thought. I’m Sarah. That she recognized her name was a great comfort to her. That she knew nothing else was of less importance. Maybe it would return to her. Sarah gratefully sipped at the water through a straw. “Thank you.”

  “Sarah, we have some questions for you.” That was an irony. She had no answers. But they would find that out soon enough. Maybe the questions would help her remember something. She waited, silent.

  “You don’t want to make small talk, all right. We understand. The sooner you answer our questions, the sooner you will be released. What is the algorithm you used to crack the code?” What? What algorithm? What code? The question made no sense.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answered, her voice timid. Somehow she knew that it wasn’t her normal voice. Normally, she spoke with authority. What did she do, that she had an authoritative voice? And why wasn’t it at her command now? She tried again, more firmly. “I don’t understand. What algorithm? What code?”

  Her questioner didn’t answer for a moment, then said with exaggerated patience. “The algorithm that allowed you to crack the code in the Great Pyramid. We know you cracked it. We know that someone has given you a partial translation. What was the algorithm?”

  Sarah shook her head, and immediately regretted it, as it set the headache pounding again. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Someone else spoke, with more menace. “We have ways of making you talk.” Sarah jumped, startled by the second voice. She hadn’t known there was more than one person in the room with her. The threat frightened her, and she decided to explain.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t actually remember anything. I didn’t know my name until you said it. Please, why am I here? Who are you?”

  A muttered oath followed her claim not to have known her name. Then a whisper. “Why did you hit her so hard?”

  “Shit, I didn’t know her skull would crack like an egg.”

  “Do you think she really can’t remember?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  For the next hour or so, the questions came from both men, all asking the same thing in different words, but nothing Sarah could do would bring a memory of what they wanted, or anything else. When one of them said, “Do you want to end up like your friend Mark Simms?” her puzzled frown convinced them more than her protestations.

  “Who?”

  They left her alone then, and came back fifteen minutes later with a TV dinner and more water. They left her for a long time after the meal, long enough that she was afraid she would have an embarrassing accident if they didn’t come soon. When she had reached her limit, she called out. “Please, I need to use the restroom!”

  This time she got an immediate response. No sooner had she finished her plea than the door was unlocked. Hands assisted her to stand, which almost caused her to pass out from dizziness and the pain in her head. Without speaking, the person guiding her led her into a restroom, unfastened the button on her jeans and pulled down her clothing. The indignity made her gasp, but the relief was gratifying. When she was done, the hands cleaned her, stood her up and re-fastened her clothes. A flush stole over her as she realized this was probably one of her male captors, but the person hadn’t spoken and she couldn’t see, so she told herself to pretend it was a woman. There was nothing she could do about it anyway, and at least there had been nothing sexual in the touch. But, if she ever got out of this predicament, she planned to kill him with her bare hands. She refused to speak, and the person led her back into her cage, relocking the door behind him. Her. Whatever.

  When there were no further visits after that, Sarah determined to go to sleep, telling herself strictly that she would remember when she woke up. It was not to be, however. She was still asleep when the door opened, and at least three people entered the room, based on the footsteps she could hear. The voice from her first interrogation was back.

  “Now, Sarah, you must stop this foolishness and tell us what you know, or there will be serious consequences.” For some reason, the word made her smile. That was weird, she
thought. Her captors evidently took it as a sign of defiance, because now an unfamiliar voice, that she thought could have been female, almost shouted at her.

  “You think that’s funny, do you? How funny will it be when we remove your fingers, one by one?”

  Sarah blanched. “Oh, my god, please, you have to believe me. I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything! Please don’t hurt me. Let me go. I promise, I’ll never tell anyone. Please.”

  “Perhaps you’ll remember if we tell you we have Daniel Rossler. He’s refusing to speak, too, but that will soon change. We will show him your little finger. Or, maybe you will talk if we relieve him of a few of his fingers. Or perhaps a hand. He will find it difficult to follow his profession one-handed, I believe.”

  Sarah was horrified. This unknown man could be mutilated if she didn’t talk, but she didn’t know anything! How could she convince them?

  “Please. I really don’t remember, but if you could give me something to help me remember. Photos, maybe. Anything. Maybe I would. I swear, I’d tell you if I knew!” Filled with terror for her own safety and horror that they would harm a stranger, Sarah begged. Tears filled her eyes. “Please.”

  “Very well. Wait here.” Laughing at the irony, the woman, or maybe it was a man with a higher voice, left the room. Sarah didn’t know whether her pleas would be honored, or whether the next thing she felt would be a blade on her finger. Her stomach rebelled at the thought and she vomited without warning.

  “Goddammit,” said a deeper voice. “Why didn’t you warn me?” Too terrified to answer, Sarah just shook her head.

  The door opened and closed again, and Sarah was alone.

  With the isolation, Sarah wracked her brain for any information at all about her life, this Daniel Rossler that her captors thought she knew, or an algorithm. She had an idea what the word meant, but it didn’t trigger anything. What did she do for a living? Break codes? Was she a spy? The thought made her feel around in her mouth for a pill that she could bite down on and kill herself if the pain of the torture that was to come became unbearable. No such luck, though, she thought, unconscious of the irony that anyone would consider being able to kill themselves lucky. Her mouth was sour, and her throat hurt. It would almost be worth having the frightening threats shouted at her again if she could get a drink of water. Sarah called out hopefully, “Someone? Could I have some water?” No response.