by David Dun
He stood with his back to the nozzle, the hot water cascading over his shoulders, loosening the tightly drawn muscles at the base of his neck.
She began to soap his chest and belly, teasing him. "Should I soap the rest of you?"
Denny's eyes rolled back in his head. Men were such funny creatures, Corey thought, their minds so easily distracted.
"Turn around," she told him.
Breathlessly he followed her orders. She pushed herself close against his back. Reaching around him with her left hand, she began to do things she knew would utterly transport him.
"Close your eyes," she whispered. "Relax."
Within seconds, sure that he was now lost in sensation, she reached her right hand high to a tiled ledge and a small lacquered box. There, from inside the black-and-red box, she quickly withdrew a small. 22 automatic. As she placed the barrel at the base of his skull, time slowed down to let her observe every detail of the scene. There was her hand wrapped around the mother-of-pearl pistol grip. There was the red dot showing the safety off. And his wet brown hair in need of a trim.
"A little present from Mother," she whispered in his ear.
As Corey dragged his body from the bathroom, dread hung like black sheets at the edges of her mind. Then her certainty returned: She had rid the world of a weakling who didn't believe in her cause; Denny would have broken the first time they squeezed him, would have copped a plea to save himself. And she would've gone to jail, or worse.
Denny's absence wouldn't be noticed for months-and perhaps not at all. She had checked his background as carefully as she had planned his demise. A drifter with no family outside a sister who hadn't seen him in years, he had no close friends and only a few acquaintances in the entire county. He had called himself a cowboy-she supposed because he had a hat. She buried him in the woods behind the house, grateful that no one who mattered had ever seen them together.
After it was over, after she had covered the corpse in the hard clay hole by the charred stump, after she had mopped up the blood and scrubbed herself clean, she sat on the shower floor, exhausted, once again letting the warm water pour over her, letting the blackness fill her head.
The sound of the ringing phone barely penetrated the soothing shower sounds.
"How did it go?" There was a nervous edge to the deep accented voice. She was certain the man was German. It wasn't the usual time for his call.
"Not good. Some stud the size of a mountain gave her the money. He was ready for a fight. They followed us partway up the hill."
"What happened?"
"I blew them off the road with a. 300 Weatherby Magnum, that's what happened. Right front tire. They went over the bank."
"Are they dead?"
"Probably. Nothing on the police bands."
"Why did you put a transmitter in the briefcase?"
Her breath caught in her throat. "What are you talking about?"
"You put a transmitter in the briefcase?"
"The hell I did."
"We took care of it," he said. "That's all that matters. What about Denny? What's he know?"
"Nothing. Besides he up and left. Headed for Florida."
"Are you sure?"
"I said he left for Florida." She didn't trust the German voice-especially after today. "Why is industry paying McCafferty? I mean what exactly does she do for them?"
"If you figure it out, let us know. Maybe she just gives in to their demands if what they pay her is right enough."
"I doubt if it's that boring," she said. "Did you know the courier would be built like a brick shithouse?"
"Had no idea."
"You wanted me to get away with the money?"
"Came for our share, didn't we?"
''Why'd they build a big Cyclone fence around that complex of theirs in the Highlands?" She thought she heard a deep sigh. "It's Amada, isn't it?"
''Don't know anything about it. What do you think?'' She was sure the voice was tighter. Or was it her imagination?
"Why did you hesitate? What do you know about this?"
"That's not the nature of our arrangement." The voice came back icy. "So if you value our relationship, all the tips, the money, perhaps you would be wise to tell us about this fence."
She needed time to think and wished she hadn't brought it up.
"I know that men come and go. Mostly at night. I know that they have a big permanent staff and I know they spend most of their time inside, not outside. Something glows, iridescent, in the night. I can see it like a halo through the trees."
"Interesting. What else?"
"Guys come in the night. They put on protective suits and unload stuff into the buildings. They work in the dark, never with a light. There's an old mine shaft nearby. They go into that as well. Around the shaft they also built a fence and they're working there during the day."
"What do you think they're doing?"
"At first I thought they might be making Taxol from the bark of the yew tree-like they tell the government. You know, latest cancer drug. I got some government documents under the Freedom of Information Act. They're distilling Taxol, but I don't think that's all they're doing."
"And how do you see all this if it's dark?"
"Government surplus infrared night-vision goggles."
"You see the glowing with these goggles?"
"No, that's with the naked eye, looking down from up in a tree."
"So how did you find out in the first place? You creep around with goggles, or what?"
She was feeling nervous. This guy seemed a little too interested in the mechanics. But she'd gone this far.
"I was watching the Highlands. They were building a so-called research road, which was actually a logging road. Before the fences were done, I told you they were doing work around the mine shaft during the day."
"What sort of work?"
"Just carrying stuff in and out. Guys with clipboards standing around.'' She waited for some comment. Some hint that the man on the line knew something. "And they've had a couple pipes going into the mine. Now, what do you know?"
"I told you, that's not the nature of the relationship."
There was a click and the line went dead.
7
Dan never lost consciousness, but his memories remained hazy. He had the presence of mind to toss the receiver into the brush after he hit the ground and to feign unconsciousness when he heard the voices. The men said nothing of interest, only grunted and complained that Dan was heavy.
At some point he felt a needle prick his arm and remembered nothing more. Blackness for only God knew how long.
He came to with a bright light in his eyes, its intensity magnified by a throbbing headache. He tried to sit up.
"Hey, hey, take it easy there," a deep male voice said. A hand on his shoulder kept him lying flat.
The voice belonged to a gray-haired, white-coated man who looked all business. The age lines in his face were faint but discernible, teeth not quite even. He was carefully dressed in a starched white coat over a pressed blue shirt and his demeanor said "doctor." Two other men, big guys in blue jeans and muscle-filled T-shirts, stood back, saying nothing.
"How many fingers?"
He held up his hands. "Where's Maria?"
"Right here," she groaned. He looked to his left and saw her lying on a folding cot. Glancing around the room, he could see white cupboards with masking tape on the doors with various labels, like flasks, beakers, dewars, and a lot of names for materials or equipment that he didn't understand. He was also on a narrow, folding cot, narrower than a twin bed, perhaps four feet away from Maria. Everything was white. For some reason he couldn't quite articulate, it appeared they were in a modular building in a room about twenty by thirty.
"She appears to be fine other than a lot of bruises," the man said. "Now, how many fingers?"
"Seven."
"What year is it?"
"2002."
"Who's the president?"
"Dick Cheney."
<
br /> "Sense of humor's intact."
"What was the last thing you remember?"
"Climbing a tree."
"Why were you trespassing?"
"Where am I?"
"You're in the facility you were spying on."
"What facility?"
"That's private."
"That's baloney," Maria said.
"I can assure you we have legitimate reasons for keeping it confidential. We're protecting the forest."
''How are you protecting the forest?'' Maria asked. ''And where are my clothes?"
''Being cleaned. What's left of them. I'm afraid they were badly torn in your fall out of the tree."
Dan realized now that he was completely nude under a wooly blanket. Judging from the bra straps on her shoulders, he surmised Maria still wore her underwear.
"I didn't just fall out of the tree. Something hit me in the chest."
"Really, I can't imagine what. Are you sure you are remembering things correctly? You were sort of knocked silly."
"I'm positive."
"Strange. At any rate we'll return your clothes just as soon as they are clean. Then the police will come and get you."
"The police?"
"We're making a citizen's arrest. You were clearly trespassing."
"Oh, come on," she said. "We weren't hurting anything."
''That really isn't the point, is it? We're entitled to privacy for our work. The nature of our project requires that we keep it completely confidential for the good of this ecosystem."
"You're on Metco or Amada land or both. Since when are they concerned about trees? They're in the business of cutting them down and making lumber."
"They're also in the business of growing them back. But I'm not going to bicker. Nothing improper is going on here. Quite the contrary."
"Well then, you shouldn't mind telling us what you're doing."
"Why were you carrying a radio receiver? What drove you deep into a private forest past barriers and numerous NO TRESPASSING signs?"
Maria glanced at Dan. He took a deep breath. "Look, is this going to be a trade? Our secrets for yours? Or is this a one-way street?"
"You were on our land. You were breaking the law. It's already a one-way street. You made it that way. So what were you doing here?"
"OK. We were picking mushrooms and this is a bad dream."
"A friend of Dan's is a biologist for Otran Enterprises," Maria interjected. "It's another timber company."
"We know who they are."
"Well, they're doing a study on land over the mountain there. We must've gotten a wrong radio signal, yours instead of theirs. Of course when we came out into this forest and found the barriers and all the signs, we couldn't imagine what anybody would be doing here."
"So you just kept coming even though you knew you were breaking the law."
"More or less, although we didn't consider that we were doing anything terribly wrong," Maria continued. "Like I said, he's an attorney for Otran Enterprises and was concerned that maybe you had something going on in your forest you didn't know about. Maybe a pot-growing operation or something. I mean, you do work for Amada or Metco. True?"
"And you are?" He ignored her question.
"She's my girlfriend," Dan said. "And she's an attorney as well."
"Also for Otran Enterprises?"
"She does a different kind of work-"
"Yes," Maria interrupted, and cut a look at Dan. "And I'd like my clothes immediately."
"We'll check on it. Your last name is Fischer?"
"Yes."
"And you are Dan Young?"
"You've been checking our wallets." Dan eyed their billfolds lying on a nearby table.
"Had to. We didn't know if you'd regain consciousness. We'll bring you your clothes when they're washed and dried. Please don't leave this room. The door will be locked and we ask that you not try to climb out the windows. The dogs will be right outside." The man started to leave, then turned back as if he'd forgotten something important. "And we're going to leave the lady with her blanket, but once we're outside, we'll ask you to pass yours around the door-we really don't want you leaving."
After they had left the room, one of the muscled arms snaked around the door, the hand beckoning.
"I'm keeping the blanket," Dan said as he rose.
The arm flung the door open, and the two big men walked purposefully over to Dan.
"Pass your blanket or we'll take it," one of the burly bodyguards ordered.
"Maybe you should give it to him," Maria said.
Looking at the dark-haired man, Dan guessed his weight at about 230 pounds. Of the two muscle guys, he appeared the leader. The second, who now stood beside him, was at least as big and a lot meaner-looking. With boots Dan gave himself a fair shot at taking them both. Without, he would probably lose. Giving in didn't occur to him. Making sure his eyes never wavered and his shoulder never dropped to betray his intention, he kicked straight at the lead man's testicles.
The man reacted too late. Doubling over, he groaned, and after a good breath, screamed. With his blanket wrapped around him, Dan moved in quickly with a very square upper-cut to the face. The guy went down deadweight. Now the odds were considerably improved. Instinctively he knew the legal situation might be manipulated if he did it right.
The remaining man assumed a fighting stance.
''Wait." The commanding voice of the white-haired man rang out. "Leave him alone." Then addressing Dan, he warned: "But I'm telling you, if either one of you tries to escape, we will use the force necessary to stop you."
"We aren't going anywhere," Dan said. "We're waiting for the police. In fact, we welcome the police."
Groaning, the man on the ground rolled over, staggering to his feet. With their disappointment clearly showing, the two men withdrew with their boss-the injured man still hunched over.
"That wasn't very bright," Maria said. She smiled a little. "So now that you've done your Tarzan act, what's next?"
"We look around," he whispered, pointing at the door. He had wrapped the blanket around himself as one would wrap a towel, but left a considerable amount of fabric on the floor. She turned away, wrapping her own blanket high on her body, tucked just under her arms.
"You take the drawers; I'll take the cabinets," she said.
"There's nothing interesting in here or they wouldn't have left us alone. It's a storage area for research equipment and supplies."
"So what, then?"
"So we're going through there."
Dan pointed at a vent grate.
"You'll never fit." Her tone betrayed a hopelessness.
"I can try. You'd clearly make it."
"Oh yeah. Right."
Dan began rummaging through the cupboards and drawers. ''We need a screwdriver.'' He found nothing resembling the necessary tool. He did find a spackling knife of the sort Sheetrockers use and immediately stood on his bed, loosening the screws. It was remarkably easy.
With the grating removed, he considered how he would get up into the duct. By putting a chair on the bed, he was able to stick his head in the metal passageway. The metal appeared thin and it was supported by little more than flimsy brackets and the Sheetrock. Even if he could fit, he would fall through the ceiling.
"You might have better luck over here," Maria said.
She had opened a big walk-in closet and had pulled aside a rack of brand-new lab coats. Behind the coats was a wall with an old pass-through door, probably used to access papers or supplies.
"Unless you like falling through the ceiling."
He got down quickly. It looked much more promising.
Taking the putty knife, they pried the drab green door. The flimsy metal bent.
"I'm sure this is a modular unit just set here. The pass-through was probably for another place and another time. I think it's painted shut. We need something stronger to pry with," he said.
Maria began rummaging in the drawers. Dan did the same. He found a first-aid
kit with a pair of heavy scissors inside.
"These might do," he said, thrusting them under the sliding door. At first it moved a half inch, enabling him to get his fingers underneath. He needed leverage, so he jumped up on the sill in front of the pass-through, losing his blanket in the process. Maria retained a solemn expression, keeping her eyes fixed on her fingers that were now also thrust under the stubborn door.
They both lifted, straining as hard as they could. Instantly it gave way, sliding up into the wall. He noticed her biting her cheeks and staring straight ahead as if struggling not to smile. Dropping to the floor, he picked up the blanket.
"If you'll allow me," he said, hefting himself over the lip and through the wall. Inside was more storage and one solitary door in the middle of the wall, a sturdy door set on heavy hinges similar to those found on a bank vault. At eye level there was a small window made of very heavy plate glass that allowed visual inspection of the room.
To open the door, one would grab a large metal handle and pull it down. At the moment it was held in place by a heavy combination lock.
"What's in there, I wonder?"
Maria was intent on the door as well. "Let's look."
But neither moved for a moment while they took in their surroundings. Stark white walls with pastel green cabinets brought to mind a medical clinic. The floor was speckled green vinyl, probably laid over a wooden sub-floor, up to an area about a foot from the door of the special room, where the floor turned to concrete slab. Stacked to either side of the door were boxes of vermiculite, a growing medium for plants. Down the hall on the opposite side was a more normal-looking door. At either end of the hall were doors that appeared to be interior to the complex, one of which looked composite and economy driven, the other heavy wood with multiple panels.
They approached the double-plated window, looking inside. It was a room about twenty by fifteen. There were two desks, numerous cabinets, and a microfiche reader. In a far corner of the room hung a television camera behind a heavy wire-mesh grid.