Cam swallowed. The fuel cell better work. “We understand.”
Boonie chewed on a piece of grass as he made a sandwich. Most kids were plain eaters, so he kept it simple—turkey and lettuce on white bread. And a couple of cookies. He shook his head. He should be making lunch for his grandkids, not some innocent girl he had just kidnapped.
At least this mission would soon be over. When he had taken it on, a few years away from retirement, he had figured it would be a six-month gig, maybe a year at most—one last adrenaline rush out in the field, a perfect way to end a thirty-five-year career. Befriend Smoot, win his confidence, learn what he could about the fuel cell technology. Show the young agents that even the senior members of the intelligence community were willing to make sacrifices, to take the hard missions. That was twenty-six months ago. Twenty-six months of playing the fool, of pulling his hat low over his face, of listening to Smoot rail against the country he loved.
He nodded at Smoot. “Hi boss,” he said.
Willum clapped him on the back. “Haven’t seen you much today, Boonie.” He said it without any edge; Thorne had been honest—he had not said anything to Smoot.
“Been looking for the girl. Lots of tunnels down there.”
“I appreciate that.” Smoot looked out over the desert. “At one point it was just you and me, Boonie.” He sighed. “I wonder if we wouldn’t have been better off if we had just left it at that.”
Boonie nodded. After twenty-six months together, Boonie had come to like Willum. Not his politics, or his paranoia, or his lack of patriotism. But he was a good man. Whatever happened, Boonie hoped Willum would find some happiness. And, once this mission ended, Boonie would insist the man be reunited with his son.
But first things first. He needed to recover that fuel cell. Otherwise nobody would be spending time with their families.
Willum finished his lunch, patted Boonie on the back and went to the supply pod to don a Hazmat suit. He pulled it on and trudged back to his saucer, the first time he had returned since the explosion. Geiger counter in hand, he opened the door and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark.
Being back in the pod made him think of Clarisse. He would need to decide what to do with her body soon—it would need to be decontaminated before anything else. Then what? Bury it, return it to next of kin, turn it over to the coroner’s office? She deserved a decent burial, preferably someplace where he could visit once in a while. She had betrayed him, but in the end he had to admit her intentions were probably noble. She wanted to protect him, protect the compound. But first things first.
Moving methodically, he opened the hatch and navigated the steep ladder. Some of the smoke had dissipated but his flashlight illuminated thousands of tiny particles of dust and debris in the air.
The Geiger counter chirped, increasing in regularity as he moved toward the explosion site. Thankfully the levels had dissipated in the past twelve hours.
Keeping to the perimeter of the room, he made his way to the back wall and opened the door of a badly-dented steel storage cabinet. He removed the lid from a green plastic trash barrel within, revealing a white plastic bag filled with coffee grounds, banana peels and other decaying refuse. He removed the bag to reveal a two-foot-square cast-iron safe hidden inside the barrel. Having previously cut away the bottom of the barrel, he easily lifted the empty barrel up and over the safe. He dropped to a knee, spun the dial a few times back and forth, opened the safe and shined his light on the fuel cell prototype, examining it carefully.
“Snug as a bug in a rug,” he said as he removed the object.
Cam stood near the picnic tables, kicked at the dirt and glanced at his watch. Two minutes past one o’clock. Willum was late. And every minute he was late was another minute Astarte remained locked in some closet or something.
Had something happened? Had the fuel cell been damaged in the explosion? Had Willum changed his mind?
He kicked at the dirt again. Somewhere beneath the ground, perhaps directly beneath where Cam was standing, Astarte was being kept captive. Was she cold, hungry, frightened? Cam took a deep breath. Boonie was just interested in the fuel cell—he had nothing personal against Astarte so presumably he was not mistreating her. Presumably.
Willum turned a corner and ambled toward Cam. Cam exhaled. Thank God. Willum dragged a red and white rectangular cooler behind him like a man heading to the beach.
“Does it need to be kept cold?” Cam asked.
“No. But I couldn’t find a box.”
Cam lifted the lid. The cooler was filled with packing worms; he pushed a few aside to see a six-sided glass case with tubes and wires inside it. “Is it … unstable?”
“Do you mean will it explode?” He chuckled. “No.”
Cam exhaled. “Willum, I really appreciate this.” He didn’t want to insult the man, but he had to ask. “Are you sure it will work.” If not, they would suspect a trick. And Astarte would pay.
Willum smiled sadly. “Cam, that’s what all this is about.” He waved his hand at the compound, then at the soldiers outside the gate. “If the feds weren’t so sure I could build this, none of us would be here right now. They put me in jail, took my son away, forced me to become a Survivalist and build this compound, sent you to spy on me, and eventually put us under siege.” He chuckled again. “It’d be pretty damn ironic if after all that it turned out I didn’t know my ass from my elbow when it came to building a fuel cell.”
Cam smiled. “So it’ll work.”
“It’ll work.”
Cam offered his hand, which Willum took. “And the rest of the plan is in place?”
Willum nodded.
Cam passed through the gate, wheeling the cooler. A soldier in an army jeep motioned to him and Cam climbed aboard. In the distance a helicopter waited, alone in the desert like a dragonfly on a beach.
The plan was for Cam to fly to a nearby military base, where government scientists would examine the fuel cell. If it checked out, they would notify Boonie and he would free Astarte. Cam and Amanda had originally balked at the plan, wanting some security Boonie would do as he promised, but Boonie asked a valid question: “Why would I want to keep the girl once I have the fuel cell?”
Five minutes later Cam was airborne, heading southeast, tracking Route 10 on a path similar to the one he and Willum had taken to visit Mustang Mountain. The army copter flew much faster than Willum’s civilian chopper, and they covered the sixty-mile distance to Tucson’s Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in just over twenty minutes. The copter set down and a soldier wearing the standard Air Force blues escorted Cam to a small waiting room while another wheeled the cooler away.
Cam dialed Amanda. “Eagle has landed.”
“Are they examining the fuel cell?”
“I assume so. I’m guessing they flew in some top people from around the country.”
“How long will it take?”
“According to Willum, not long. It either works or it doesn’t.”
Two-and-a-half hours later the same soldier in his Air Force blues opened the waiting room door. “Mr. Thorne, you’re all set for your return trip.”
Cam stood. “Did the fuel cell work?”
“I’m not at liberty to say, sir.” The soldier offered a wry smile. “But I did hear some hooting and hollering from inside the lab.”
Boonie took the call on his satellite phone. “Bingo,” said the voice on the other end of the line. “It’s the real deal.”
He exhaled. “You’re sure?”
“We’ve got three of the best guys in the country. They all agree.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Slipping into one of the abandoned domes, Boonie lifted a hatch hidden under a steamer trunk pushed up against one wall. He dropped through the hatch and into one of the many tunnels snaking underneath the complex—the idea, apparently, was that workers would never have to go out into the desert heat during the summer months. Over the past couple of years Boonie had modified the system, blocking
off some tunnels and hiding access points to others.
He followed the tunnel a couple hundred feet to the room Smoot called the bunker, the one Boonie reported had been damaged by the explosion. As he walked, he dropped M&M’s on the floor every few feet. When he arrived at the bathroom door, he turned on his flashlight and knocked gently. “Astarte, you in there?” Where else would she be?
“Yes,” came the whimpered reply.
“Listen carefully. I’m going to let you go now. Here’s what you need to do. First, I’m going to turn off the light for a few seconds. Then I’m going to open this door and shine my flashlight in your face again.”
“So I can’t see you?”
“That’s right. But this time I want you to follow me out of the bathroom. I’m going to leave another flashlight for you here on the ground. Turn it on and use it to follow the trail of M&M’s I left for you.” He paused.
“Okay.”
“When you get to the red M&M, stop, like a stop sign. You’ll see a ladder along the wall of the tunnel. When you climb the ladder, you’ll be outside near the picnic tables. I’ll make sure Amanda is there waiting for you.”
Amanda sat at a picnic table, as instructed, her eyes sweeping the compound for Astarte.
Out of nowhere the girl appeared, like an apparition. “Astarte,” Amanda called, running toward her.
Astarte stood motionless, tears running down her cheeks, their tracks visible on her dust-caked face.
Amanda scooped her up, hugged her to her chest. “Are you all right?”
The girl sniffled, her hands balled into fists as she squeezed Amanda’s neck. She did not speak, but merely nodded her head. Sobbing now, she burrowed her head into Amanda’s shoulder.
“It’s okay now … you’re safe … I’ve got you … it’s okay … I’m here,” Amanda whispered. “It’s okay.”
Amanda held her for another thirty seconds until the sobs gradually subsided. She pulled her face back so she could see Astarte’s face. She brushed the girl’s hair out of her eyes and kissed her on the nose. “I was so very frightened we had lost you, Astarte.” Her own eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“So you’re not angry with me?” Another sniffle.
“No, this was all my fault.”
Astarte’s lower lip trembled. “Do you still want to be my parents?” Her words were barely audible.
Amanda melted into her. “More than ever, darling. More than ever.”
Ellis had watched the copter take off, the crushing weight of trepidation lifting off his shoulders in concert with the bird’s ascent. Now, three hours later, he scanned the horizon for the sign of a return flight.
Assuming Thorne delivered the fuel cell and it worked, Ellis’s mission will have ended in success. He had been assigned to somehow orchestrate the delivery of the fuel cell—mission accomplished. That he may have cut some corners along the way would be overlooked. The ends justified the means, at least as long as the mission succeeded. If the mission failed, every decision you made would be questioned. That’s the way it worked.
In the distance a chopper appeared, mosquito-like on the horizon. As it did so, he heard the compound gate open. Amanda and the girl walked out, hand-in-hand. Ellis smiled. “So the fuel cell must have worked.”
Amanda nodded, her eyes cold. She put her body between Astarte and him. “If you ever come near my daughter again,” she hissed, “I’ll hunt you down and rip your heart out.”
He tossed his head. “I’d look forward to that.”
She began to walk away, then stopped. “Actually, that would be impossible. My bet is you’ll soon be locked away in some jail cell, rotting.”
Now why would she say something like that? Didn’t she realize his mission was a success?
Cam jumped from the copter and he and Astarte shared a long, tearful embrace. Amanda cut it short. “I’m sorry, but I really want to get as far away from this place as we can.”
Cam nodded. “Agreed. The shit is going to hit the fan soon. And it’s going to be ugly.”
They jogged to the SUV, Cam holding Astarte’s hand. Cam pointed the car in the opposite direction from the hotel and floored it. “Where to?”
Amanda had loaded all their gear into the SUV earlier in the day. “Let’s drive for half an hour, then find a hotel with an internet connection.”
Twenty-five minutes later, just outside Phoenix, they pulled into the parking lot of a Hampton Inn. They rented a suite, ordered a pizza from room service and threw their bags in the corner. While Cam helped Astarte wash up and put on clean clothes, Amanda popped open her lap top and connected to the Wi-Fi signal. She smiled and turned to Cam as he stepped out of the bathroom. “You ready?”
He sat next to her, pulled Astarte onto his lap and nodded. “Ready.”
She typed the words “prototype fuel cell” into the search engine, restricting the search to web entries created within the past twenty-four hours. They stared at the screen, waiting for the engine to load. “There,” she said. “That’s it.”
She clicked on the YouTube link, turned up the volume and sat back. Willum’s voice filled the hotel room. “My name is Willum Smoot. And I’m here today to share with the world the new fuel cell technology I’ve invented….”
Cam clapped. “Beautiful. He also downloaded the specs and all the technical info on a bunch of different science chat rooms. Within hours the whole world will be able to build a version of his fuel cell.”
Amanda smiled. “It worked perfectly, Cam.” She kissed him on the mouth. “Well done.”
He grinned. “I just wish we could see the looks on Boonie’s and Kincaid’s faces. They are going to be pissed.”
“I just hope they don’t take it out on poor Willum.”
“Take it out on him? They’ve already mobilized armed forces to attack his compound. What else could they do to the guy?”
“Bloody true.” She smiled. “And you know what? No matter what happens later, I think Willum is sitting there with a cold pint right now, laughing his ass off.”
CHAPTER 10
Willum climbed to the top of the sniper’s nest nearest the front gate, plopped into a lawn chair, opened a Corona and lifted his binoculars. The soldiers had already begun to pull back even before the chopper carrying Cam had returned and now, three hours later, only a few stragglers remained. Would they spin around and return once word of the YouTube video reached central command?
He kept the binoculars trained on one man in particular, Agent Kincaid. Cam had said Kincaid would probably get the first call regarding the YouTube video since he was the agent at the scene.
A beer and a half later, Kincaid reached for his satellite phone. Willum focused in, watched the color drain from the man’s face, read the “Are you sure?” on the man’s lips.
What happened next surprised even Willum. Kincaid ran to the nearest soldier and grabbed for her rifle. Holding tight, the soldier fended Kincaid off with a knee to the groin. Doubled-over, Kincaid bellowed, his angry voice carrying across the desert air. “They tricked us! Storm the compound! Attack, attack!”
The soldier stared at him for a few seconds, shrugged and walked away.
Cam, Amanda and Astarte spent the night at the hotel—swimming, playing board games, watching a movie. In the morning Cam checked his phone for messages. “Georgia, six calls.”
“Four for me,” Amanda said.
“Should I call her?”
“Sure. Maybe she can meet us out at the compound.” Amanda had made reservations for a flight back to Boston late that afternoon. But they wanted to say goodbye to Willum first. “Ask her to bring the ark. It belongs to Willum, after all.”
Two hours later, after breakfast and another swim, they pulled up to the front gate of the compound.
“Sure looks different with no army surrounding it,” Amanda said. A few tumbleweeds raced across the desert.
“Almost abandoned. Imagine what it must have l
ooked like when Willum first found it.”
“And my cell phone works now. Guess the troops really are not coming back.”
A lone guard sat in the guard house. Cam waved, he buzzed them in and Willum ambled out to greet them. “I’m a YouTube star,” he said. “Over three thousand views so far, and a couple dozen emails with questions.”
“Won’t be enough sand in the desert to run all those fuel cells,” Cam said, laughing.
Georgia pulled to a stop outside the gate, followed by a black van. She rolled down her window. “Where do you want your ark?”
Willum grinned. “Leave it there. I’ll have a couple of men come get it.”
Georgia hugged Astarte and they all walked to the picnic table area.
“So I have some news,” Georgia said. “Ellis Kincaid’s been arrested. He disappeared last night. They found him trying to cross the border into Mexico. Turns out he set the roadside bomb.”
“No surprise, maggot that he is,” Amanda said. “But how did they figure it out?”
“Well,” Georgia hesitated, looking at Willum. “It turns out there was another mole inside the compound. He figured it out.”
Willum pursed his lips. “Boonie. Has to be him,” he whispered. His chin dropped to his chest. “Boonie’s the only one who I didn’t make take the truth serum. Probably Boonie who kidnapped Astarte also.” He shook his head. “Sorry I’m a day late in figuring it all out.”
Amanda touched his arm. “You’ve had a bit on your mind. And for what it’s worth, I think Boonie really grew fond of you. He said he’s going to make sure things are set right with your son.”
Willum nodded. “That’s the most important thing,” he breathed.
Cam turned away as he noticed the burly man tearing up. Chances were pretty good that Willum would develop some kind of cancer from the radiation. Cam hoped he’d be able to beat it, or at least spend some quality time with his boy in the meantime. “So Kincaid is facing, what, murder charges?” he asked Georgia.
Powdered Gold: Templars and the American Ark of the Covenant (Templars in America Series Book 3) Page 28