She turned on the computer. In seconds, the blinking cursor greeted her. Robyn typed in her access code and password. They took. She looked up at Jacob, her eyes wide but clear. Almost imperceptibly, he nodded. He’d had it reinstated. She wouldn’t ask how he knew what her password had been. He’d only tell her she didn’t need to know. But she was grateful.
"Is there anyone here who can help me?" she asked.
"What do you need?" Jacob asked.
"I need Will’s files. And I’d like all the records, newspaper clippings, photographs, everything on Alex Jordan’s hits. Anything even remotely attached to him. And I need the files on the Network." Somehow they were linked, and she had to find out how.
Jacob didn’t waste time asking why she wanted the files. He picked up a phone and issued an order. Robyn knew an entire staff had just gone into action. She’d have what she needed in record time.
"Can I help?" Grant asked.
"Can you use a computer?" Robyn said at his command.
"I had a teacher once." He smiled and she remembered. He had taught her to fly and she had taught him a few fundamentals about the computer. For a moment, tension in the room lightened. "Jacob," she called. "Can he have access?"
"It’s against regulations."
Robyn’s gaze didn’t waver. The strength of what he was doing for her and her child hit her. Jacob had put the entire U.S. government computer network at her disposal. He’d broken at least ninety of the one hundred regulations against unauthorized entry into the building. And she was asking for access for not one but two people who had no clearance, no authority, and no connection with the Service. Robyn knew he could lose his job over this. And with what he was doing, very probably would.
"Please," she uttered the solitary word. She couldn’t remember ever saying it to the man now facing her. But she didn’t want to fight with Jacob anymore. She liked him. If he said no, she’d accept it.
Jacob stared at her for a long moment, then walked to the machine facing her and sat down. He typed something onto the screen. Less than a minute later, he stood. "Your code is FRIEND. The password is BROOKE." Robyn stared at him but he didn’t look in her direction.
Grant took the seat Jacob vacated and typed onto the screen. Over his head, Jacob’s eyes met Robyn’s. She nodded a silent thank you. He walked past her without acknowledgment.
"Go through the menus to Military Service and access Will’s records. Find out every place he’s ever been stationed. Everything in the file," Robyn instructed. The moment between her and Jacob was gone. She realized he was probably the best friend she had or would ever have.
Jacob sat at the machine next to Grant. "What would you like me to look for?" he asked as he typed his own access code and password onto the screen.
"See what you can find out about Alex Jordan. Anyone he’d been associated with no matter how infrequently. What he liked and disliked. Look for the small details. Compile all the confirmed and unconfirmed assassinations linked to him. Create a file I can read."
Adrenaline was pumping through Robyn. She was back. It had been five years since she’d touched a computer keyboard for anything other than recipes and restaurant accounting, but it was like swimming, she didn’t forget. Her fingers flew across the keys. Information came and went, and she took it all in as fast as the computer would display it.
Silently, they worked. The only sound in the room was the rhythmic tapping of the keyboards. Once or twice, she noticed the doors opening and in came the three men who had been at her house a few hours earlier. They were carrying boxes. Robyn knew they contained the data she’d had requested.
Someone pinned a badge on her. She barely looked at the man, too engrossed in absorbing the data flitting rapidly across the screen. If she had time, she’d laugh. Jacob couldn’t resist being the man he was. He had to comply with regulations as much as possible.
Hours passed as blue letters danced across the light gray background. She sat for so long that her neck and back began to hurt. She ignored the pain and continued. When or how coffee showed up she didn’t know. It was just beside her, and there were empty cups next to her computer. She didn’t remember drinking it. Like in the hospital the day Grant came to give Kari the blood, she had no memory of food or drink.
Pushing her chair back, she relaxed a moment. Her head dropped back, and she gathered her hair in a hand-held ponytail for several seconds. Then, she stretched and yawned, her fingers flexed in the air above her head. Sitting up straight, she looked at the men about her. Everyone was engrossed in the work she’d assigned them.
Robyn got up. She joined Hammil who was stacking piles of paper from the storage boxes on a nearby table. Box by box, she emptied the contents and absorbed the information. She soaked up everything. When she finished, she was certain that the Network was comprised of a group of assassins. They were placed throughout the world, probably living normal lives. Some of them were married with families. When the call came through for services, contact was made, and a loving father or a Don Juan type playboy pulled the tools of his trade from mothballs and went into action.
She hadn’t yet been able to determine who the leader of the group was, how large a network he commanded, or what connection he had with Will McAdams.
"How are you doing?" Robyn asked Grant.
"There doesn’t seem to be anything here we could use. He was a model soldier. His file reads like a man campaigning for the Congressional Medal of Honor. There is nothing here but commendations and awards. From basic training through his retirement, he was at the top of his class or his field."
"What particularly did he excel in?" Robyn poured six cups of coffee into Styrofoam cups. There was no sugar or cream so she passed the revival liquid to the tired looking men as Grant continued. She peered onto the screen of Grant’s computer.
"He excelled in everything from grenades and high explosives to map and terrain reading. During the individual training, he scored highest on the ASVAB and went into intelligence. If you ask me, he was a model soldier."
"What’s his I.Q.?" Jacob asked standing up from his machine and coming to stand behind Grant.
Grant scanned through the screens, "One hundred seventy-seven," he said with a low whistle. "The man’s intelligent."
"Maybe a little too intelligent," Jacob said.
"I agree," Robyn concurred.
Grant craned his neck to see the two people behind him. "What does that mean?"
"I’m not sure," Jacob answered. "I wonder why a man of such superior intelligence would choose to spend his time making children’s toys?"
"Will has always been fond of his girls,” Grant said. “When we were young, he supported them in everything from sports to dating. It was only Alex who seemed to expect more than Will could give. His real family lives far away, and they don’t visit often. Kari was probably the grandchild he longed for."
"Then why would he kidnap her?" Jacob asked.
"We don’t know that he has." Robyn stopped the discussion. "The note doesn’t have to be real."
"Face it, Brooke. It’s in his handwriting. And he’s Alex Jordan’s father." Jacob’s voice was harsh.
She wasn’t used to him jumping to conclusions. He was too logical, too much the calm, controlled, think-on-your-feet kind of guy. Jacob came to her, pushing two papers into her hand. Robyn read an account of Will’s liaison with a Meredith Jordan before she married and became Meredith Van Buren. The second paper was a copy of Alex Jordan’s birth certificate. Under father’s name, the space read Alex Van Buren, Sr. "There is another possibility," she added.
"Which is?" Jacob asked.
Robyn moved away from them. She stopped in front of the debris she’d left piled on the floor. "When you staged my kidnapping in Washington. . ."
"What!" Grant was on his feet.
"It’s all right, Grant. Jacob was showing me what a dangerous game I was playing."
"Is that why you left so suddenly?"
She nodded. "It worked. He scared me into believing a Network gun lurked behind every pair of sunglasses. I was frantic, and I ran."
Grant covered the small distance between them and hugged her. She leaned against him for a moment, wanting to stay in the warmth of his arms, but Kari’s face had her remembering why she was in this room.
"Jacob, suppose someone did find out who I was?"
"Impossible." His comment sounded like a quick snap of the teeth.
"Hear me out," she protested. "Suppose somehow my identity has been found out. Will was watching Kari. Suppose someone came in and kidnapped them both. To force us to think Will is the person who’s has Kari, he forced him to write the note."
"Sorry, Ma’am." A voice from behind her arrested three pairs of eyes. Robyn recognized Hammil, the clean-cut agent who had been her escort for Susan’s wedding. "We’ve had the handwritten note analyzed. It’s definitely William McAdams handwriting. There are no indications of any stress-related impressions. When Mr. McAdams wrote the note, he was under no strain of anxiety."
"You can tell that from a piece of paper?" Grant asked incredulously.
"Sir," the young man began.
"That’s enough, Hammil," Jacob cut the explanation off. The young man’s face closed.
The door opened and a cloned agent, molded just like Hammil, stood there. He held his position in the doorway a moment before coming farther into the room.
He went straight Jacob and whispered something in his ear. Jacob nodded, and the unnamed man left as silently as he’d come. Robyn watched as Jacob picked up a phone.
"Put it through in here and have it traced," he said into the mouthpiece and indicated Robyn should pick up one of the other phones.
"Hello," she said.
"Hi, Mommy."
"Kari! Are you all right?" Relief and fear sliced through her as she heard Kari’s voice. Her knees gave way and Grant pushed a chair under her.
"Mommy, I miss you. I’m fine. Are you coming to get me tonight?"
Jacob’s signal told her to remain calm.
"Yes, oh yes, darling. Is Graffie with you?" Robyn’s heart hammered in her chest. Grant took Robyn’s hand and squeezed it.
Before the child could answer, the phone was taken from her and a gravelly voice said. "She’s mine, now. You’ll never see her again."
Blood drained from Robyn’s face as the line went dead. She started to shake. Suddenly, the brightness in the room was blinding, and the two men across from her appeared to weave back and forth like drunks. Jacob’s hand moved in slow motion as the phone left his ear and started an arc. She turned her head, feeling her hair swing around her head and hit her in the face as she looked at the black instrument in her hand. Brighter and brighter the room got until the light was so blinding, she had to close her eyes against it.
She tried to scream. She wanted to say something to Grant, but her mouth wouldn’t open fast enough for sound to come through. Below her was a dark well. Her body was drawn toward it. She was going to fall into it, and she couldn’t stop herself. Down she went, into the blackness of the abyss below. It felt cool, against her hot skin. Behind her was the blinding light, below her the coolness of the dark cave. She went into it gladly. It was comforting, taking her away from the pain of the light and the pain in her head. The coolness would make it go away.
She embraced it.
She fell for a long time. There was no bottom to the well. She went further and farther into the coolness of the dark. Suddenly, something caught her. She fought against it. She wanted to keep going. She didn’t want to be pulled back into the light. It was painful there. The dark was where she wanted to be. But whatever had her was strong. It caught and shackled her arms. She fought it, struggled against it until she was too tired to care. Then, the darkness swallowed her.
Chapter 19
The acrid smell of ammonia assailed Robyn’s nostrils. She sat up, fighting the offending odor. One hand knocked the wet vial to the floor while her face came into warm contact with Grant’s chest.
She opened her eyes and pushed herself back. She was on the floor. Grant cradled her across his lap while Jacob knelt on her other side. The room was quiet and empty. She looked about for Hammil and the other men whose names Jacob had not given her. They were gone. Only the two men hovered above her. "Grant, it was Will. He said he’d kill her."
"Jacob told us," Grant acknowledged. Robyn remembered Jacob was on the other phone while the short conversation took place. She tried to sit. Both men’s hands came out to stop her.
"I’m all right," she said, breaking the awkward moment. "Let me up."
They released her and she sat fully up, tucking her feet under her Indian-style and hanging her head to clear it. Both of the faces staring into hers looked as drained as she had looked hours earlier when she caught her reflection in the bedroom mirror.
"Do you think he’s telling the truth?" she asked not knowing which man she expected to answer. Neither of them knew what Will was capable of doing. She’d been closer to him than either of them. She could hardly believe Will had tracked her for five years, moved next door, and infiltrated her life to discover if his suspicions were true. And, finally, he had. She’d trusted her child to him. He’d been so close and so loving to her and Kari. How could she believe he lived a double life?
"We’ll find her," Jacob said finally. His stare was direct. "You thought there was something here that would give us a clue to what he would do."
Jacob and Grant helped her up. She sat in the chair that had faced her computer, but now had its back to it. "What did you find out about Alex Jordan?"
"Not much more than we knew five years ago." Jacob took the seat in front of the backlit computer screen. "He had very few associations. But he did seem to spend a lot of time in Sicily."
"Can we confirm where he was when the restaurant murders took place?"
"We can’t say exactly." Jacob turned and met Robyn’s eyes. "In Sicily, nine years ago, six American men were killed in a restaurant," Jacob explained to Grant. "The kill was impossible. No windows, door locked from the inside. The food was not poisoned. No marks on the bodies. Yet, they were all dead."
"How did it happen?" Grant asked.
"It’s still unsolved," Robyn answered. She spoke almost to herself.
"What happened to the bodies?" Grant asked.
"What do you mean? They were identified by the next of kin and properly buried."
"Can you find the names of the people who claimed the bodies?" Grant asked.
"What are you getting at?" Robyn frowned at her husband.
"It’s from a novel I read called Lost Companions." Grant could tell he made no sense. "It’s about a dinner party where everyone ends up dead."
"I understand." Jacob turned to the keyboard and rapidly began striking the keys. The screen flickered. "One of those men was not really dead."
Robyn knew Jacob was connecting to another data base. When the Interpol logo came up on the screen, she pulled a chair up. Grant followed suit, and they watched in quiet anticipation as Jacob combed his way through the maze of menus to reach his goal. The list of names came up. Nothing looked familiar to Robyn.
“Anything link them together?”
"How about military?" Robyn suggested.
"They were all in the military at some point in their lives," Jacob volunteered. "None of them served together and interviews with the families could not produce any links."
Jacob pressed several keys in rapid succession, and the list of the dead appeared on the screen. Along side of each name was of the next of kin. "Does anything look familiar? Out of place?" Both Robyn and Jacob shook their heads.
Jano, Sr., Keith-----------claimed by---------Jano, Jr., Keith
Knight, Joseph-----------claimed by----------Knight, Adam
Lance, David--------------claimed by---------Holden, Jane
McBride, James----------claimed by---------McBride, Martin
Tot
ten, Earl---------------claimed by----------Totten, Robert
Williams, John-----------claimed by----------Opal, Julia
She went through the names. They meant nothing. "There was a photo." Robyn left her chair and went to search one of the boxes on the floor. She leafed through it and found the black-and-white eight-by-ten glossy.
Three heads bowed over the picture of death.
"Do you know who belongs to the names?"
Robyn reached over and listed the names of the men sitting around the table. They looked as if they were all asleep.
"What day did this happen on?"
"May twenty-sixth," Jacob answered.
"Which was the first body claimed?"
"They were all released the same day, May thirtieth. A hearse arrived for each of the victims. Totten and McBride were the first to leave."
"It’s got to be here." Grant whispered.
"You’re losing me," Robyn prompted.
"If the assumption is correct, that one of these men was not dead, but only simulating death, then a doctor or a person posing as a doctor had to be in on the job."
"All right. Where does that take us?" Robyn asked.
"Three days is too long a time for a body to simulate death."
"Meaning," Jacob continued, "that the accomplice was part of the medical examiner’s office."
"Or posed as part of the office."
"And that’s how he escaped. Alex Jordan was either there or someone else was, and he claimed the body," Robyn concluded.
"No," Grant stopped her. "Will was the man there."
"How do you know?" Robyn reacted to his tone.
"I’ve seen this before." Grant took the photo and looked closer. He stood up, walking about the cluttered room with the picture in his hand. Two men sat on either side of the rectangular table. At the head were two others. Grant came back, straddled a chair and pointed to the man on the far side of the photo, directly right of the head. "This is Will McAdams."
Under the Sheets (Capitol Chronicles Book 1) Page 27