by Rebecca York
He heard her swallow. “Fireproof—that’s important.”
“Yeah. We don’t have an escape tunnel, but we’ve got this.” He gestured toward the shelves. “There’s plenty of water and food. Not gourmet, but high in protein.”
The weapons were on another set of shelves. Handguns and Uzis. He turned toward another small table by the door. “This is the wireless communications equipment.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” she murmured. “Won’t you be with me?”
“First, we may not be at the house all the time. And even if we are, if we’re under attack, no telling what could happen. You may have to get yourself down here.”
Her expression turned stark. “Okay, show me how to call for help.”
He crossed to the table and pointed to the broadcaster and receiver. “You just flip this switch. The instructions are written on this plastic card. I’ll show you how to turn on the generator.”
Pivoting away, he almost bumped into Morgan who was standing right behind him.
“Jack.” She reached out and pulled her arms around him, holding tight.
He had told himself that making love with her had been a mistake. He’d told himself that there was no future for the two of them, but when she hugged him to her, he brought his own arms up and pulled her more tightly against himself.
He wanted to keep holding her. Hell, he wanted to make love to her again, but he finally forced himself to ease away. What he’d said in bed was still true. He wasn’t good for her.
“We should go back up,” he said.
“We should talk. This might be a good place to do it.”
He met her questioning gaze. “There’s nothing much to talk about—until we take care of Trainer.”
“If that’s the way you want it.”
“It’s the way it has to be.”
“What about my memory suggestion?”
He thought about it, wondering if he was going to like what he found out if they tried it.
They came up the stairs to find Shane waiting for them with a scowl on his face.
“What?” Jack asked.
“I did something we should have tried months ago. I ran the plates on Cunningham’s car.”
“And you know who he really is?”
“No. The car’s registered to a rental company.”
“And they don’t give out the names of clients?”
“They did when I told them the car had been in an accident. The name on the rental is Arthur Cunningham, the same name he gave us.”
“So that leaves us nowhere with finding out who he really is.”
***
Maybe he should have run the fingerprints on all his men, Wade Trainer thought as he considered the personal possessions Jack Barnes had left in the compound. He decided his toothbrush would be good. To be on the safe side, he also included his comb and his billfold. He put each into a separate paper bag because he remembered that paper was better than plastic for fingerprints. All the little bags went into a canvas carry bag, along with the five hundred dollars he was paying for Davenport’s services.
After placing Emerson in charge, he left the compound that evening and headed for the bar where he’d arranged to meet the Park Service officer.
He had a bad twenty minutes while he sipped a beer and waited for the man, but finally the guy showed up, dressed in civilian clothes.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he slid into the booth across from Wade. “There was an accident on North Capitol Street that blocked both lanes.”
“No problem.”
“You got that stuff for me?”
“Right here.” Wade handed over the bag with the items Barnes had handled and also the cash.
The big black man counted that first, then looked at the objects Wade had assembled. “This is a good selection.”
“How soon can you give me his name?”
“Tomorrow, if he’s in the system.”
“That’s great,” Wade answered. “You can just email me the results.” Wade gave one of his email addresses.
“So buy me a beer,” Davenport said.
Wade ordered another Dos Equis for himself and one for Davenport, although he wanted the cop to leap up and deal with the fingerprints. Not only that, he was nervous about being away from camp when the situation was so unsettled.
All of that made it hard to sit and chat with the man, but he forced himself to be sociable. He wanted this information—badly.
But he also wanted to stay on this guy’s good side, in case he needed his services again.
“How’s that security company of yours going?” Davenport asked.
“Fine.”
“Any chance of my getting some part-time work? The wife wants a new car, and I need some money to pay for it.”
“I’m pretty full right now,” Wade answered.
When Davenport’s face fell, he said quickly, “But I’ll put you at the top of my list for new hires.”
“Thanks.”
Wade shifted in his seat. The conversation had made him nervous. He didn’t like sitting here and lying to the man’s face. But that was part of what you needed to do in his position, Wade told himself.
There were no jobs available in his “security firm.” He only took recruits who were willing to dedicate their lives to his cause. But he couldn’t explain that to Davenport. And in the end, he wouldn’t need to. Davenport would likely buy the farm, along with everyone else who was close to ground zero.
Chapter 22
“Max and I will alternate taking care of pending business at Rockfort,” Shane said.
“Okay.”
“You’ll both stay here,” he added, looking from Jack to Morgan and back again.
“Okay,” they both answered.
“Actually, it’s probably safest if we all sleep here.”
Jack agreed, thinking that having the other guys around would help keep him and Morgan from getting into anything heavy.
He cleared his throat. “I told you when I was hit on the head that I lost the memory of what happened right before Trainer’s men captured me.”
Shane nodded.
Jack kept his voice even. “Morgan wants to try a technique that might help me recover the memory.”
Shane studied her. “Like what, exactly?”
“Hypnosis,” she said.
“I thought that kind of thing was discredited,” Shane said, sounding scornful.
She wanted to answer in the same tone, but she kept her voice even.
“To a certain extent it is, when a therapist is trying to dig up long-term memories of abuse. But this is different. It’s something that happened to Jack a few days ago. And there’s no downside. Either he can recall the incident, or he can’t.”
“You’re qualified as a hypnotherapist?” Shane asked.
She opened her hands. “I took a course in it and had some practical experience with volunteers. But if you wanted, we could call someone else in.”
“Not a good idea from a security standpoint,” Shane answered.
Jack nodded in agreement.
Shane gave him a searching look. “But you want to try it?”
“Like she says, what do I have to lose?” He glanced at Morgan. “If we’re going to do it, let’s go ahead.”
“And you’re not going to poke into any of his other memories?” Shane asked.
“Of course not,” Morgan answered promptly. “If you want to be there, you can.”
“Won’t that be distracting?”
“Yes, but I’m willing to do it if you don’t trust me.”
“I trust her,” Jack broke in.
“Then go for it,” Shane said.
She looked toward the great room. “We need a quiet place.”
“We can use one of the bedrooms,” Jack said.
“We’ll need two comfortable chairs,” Morgan answered.
“They all have one. I just have to bring another one in.”
**
*
Morgan had made herself sound confident as she’d told Jack and Shane what she had in mind, but she was less sure of herself than she pretended. The class she’d taken in hypnosis techniques had been a couple of years ago, and she hadn’t practiced since then. But she wanted Jack to get those memories back, for more than one reason. Whatever he’d found out might speed up the process of putting the militia leader out of business, but more important to her was Jack’s attitude toward himself. She knew he felt like he’d failed in his mission. If he’d discovered something, and she could help him recover the memory, that would help his attitude.
And help their relationship? She hoped that would be true too.
Her heart was pounding as she followed Jack upstairs. There was a lot riding on this session.
He hesitated in the hallway. “Maybe a room that’s not being used is best.”
“Sure.”
He opened another door and ushered her into a chamber that was similar to the one where she was sleeping, only the decor was more masculine than in hers.
Jack gestured her to the easy chair in the corner. “Be right back.”
She sat and felt her heart start to pound even harder. This was her idea, but now she was nervous.
When Jack stepped out of the room, she clutched the chair arms in a death grip, then eased her hands into her lap and did some deep breathing exercises to calm herself.
Jack was back all too soon, carrying another large chair which he set down a few feet from her. “Now what?”
“Push that chair over toward the bed so that you can look at the far wall. Then sit down.”
He did as she asked, leaning back in the chair.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Yes.”
She could see he was nervous. She hoped she wasn’t projecting the same tension.
“The usual procedure would be to spend at least a session discussing your background before we got into hypnosis.”
“I thought you didn’t do clinical work,” he snapped, revealing his anxiety.
“I don’t. But I know the procedures.”
She heard him drag in a breath and let it out.
“Maybe what we can do is have a practice hypnosis session where we only get into relaxation techniques.”
“Okay,” he answered, and she heard some of the tension ease out of him.
In the next second, he came up with an objection. “We don’t have a whole lot of time.”
She struggled to keep her voice even. “So which do you prefer? Getting right to the main event or doing a trial run?”
He considered the question. “Maybe a trial run.”
“Then let me tell you a little about the technique we’ll employ. I used it in the class I took. Really, it’s self-hypnosis. And I’m just there to guide you back to an earlier time you want to remember and help you control the experience. The best part is that you’re perfectly safe. Nothing can harm you while you’re there.” After giving him a fuller explanation, she asked, “Any questions?”
“No.”
“Then make yourself comfortable.”
He stretched out his long legs, crossing his booted feet at the ankles.
Morgan leaned forward slightly in her chair. “The technique will be the same this time and next. Breathe deeply, raise your eyes just a little, and look up at the line where the wall meets the ceiling.”
Jack did as he was asked.
“Now I’m just going to help you relax. Relax. Relax now.” Morgan continued in a soothing voice. “If you could get away from your problems and go on vacation—where would you go?”
He laughed. “I wish.”
“We can do it here.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. A beach, I guess.”
“You like the beach?”
“I did when I was a kid. Not much time to lie around since then.”
“Well, you can now. Imagine you’re in a sling chair staring out at a beautiful blue ocean. The waves are rolling in, breaking on a horseshoe stretch of white sand.”
She saw the tension ease out of Jack’s face.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?”
“Um.”
“Can you talk to me?”
“Yeah,” he answered in a slow, drowsy voice.
“When I tell you to wake up, you’ll come right back to this room.”
“Uh huh.”
She looked at his relaxed posture, pleased with her success. It was tempting to ask him questions that had nothing to do with recovering his memories of the time before Trainer’s men had captured him, but she wasn’t going to bait and switch on him.
“Let’s just stay here for a while, enjoying the sun and the surf.”
“Okay.”
“Do you see any dolphins?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Are there any sailboats out on the water?”
He smiled. “Um hum.”
“Wiggle your toes in the sand.”
She spent another ten minutes with him on the beach, then said, “The next time I say, ‘wake up now,’ you will wake. Now or anytime you are in the trance state. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Wake up now.”
His eyes blinked open, and he stared at her. “I guess it worked.”
“How do you feel?”
“Better than before we started.”
“Refreshed?”
“Rested.”
“Good.” She was feeling pleased that it had gone so well and gave him an encouraging smile.
“Next time we’ll start the same way, then I’ll take you back to Trainer’s camp.”
That sent a small wave of doubt across his face, and she suspected that the last place he wanted to visit was the training camp. Perhaps she should give him a little time before they started in again.
“Maybe we should have a snack, then come back up here and try it again,” she said.
He nodded in agreement.
***
Wade felt his tension mount as he drove back to the militia camp. He’d rushed off to meet Davenport because it was important, but now he was thinking about what Barnes might do.
Although Wade had put a few extra men on guard duty, there had been no problems. Everything was the way he had left it, including in the infirmary.
“No change in Preston?” he asked.
“Sorry.”
“Do your best,” he answered, wondering how long they were going to keep the man lying in a hospital bed. Would Wentworth cooperate if he suggested giving the troop an overdose of painkiller? Or would Wade have to do that himself?
He made a quick inspection of the camp. A few men were still in the recreation area shooting the breeze, but most of them were already in bed because the RAM days started early.
After he was satisfied with the camp, he went back to his office and checked his email, relieved that there were no communications from Mr. Money.
While he was sitting at the computer, a message came in from Davenport with the subject header, “Bad News.”
Wade felt his stomach clench. Was the guy going to tell him he couldn’t get the information on Jack Barnes after all?
His finger hovered over the mouse button. Then he remembered his cover story—that a man named Jack Barnes was stealing from him.
He opened the message and quickly read:
“You wanted to know if your employee, Jack Barnes, was legit. It wasn’t hard to run those prints. They came right up. His real name isn’t Jack Barnes like he told you. It’s Jack Brandt. It looks like he’s working for a security company in Rockville called Rockfort. Weird. Is he stalking you or something?”
Wade’s heart was pounding as he hit the reply button. “Thanks for the info. I owe you one, buddy.”
Chapter 23
Shane joined Morgan and Jack in the kitchen when he heard the refrigerator open.
“How did it go?”
“The test run was fine,” Jack answered with more animation than he
’d displayed when they’d been alone together. “It left me feeling good. We’re going to have something to eat and get to the real deal.”
Morgan turned away from the two men and took out the tray of sandwiches they’d served earlier, glad that there was prepared food at hand. She didn’t want to get stuck being the cook for three guys at the safe house. Or should she impress them with her chicken cacciatore? The thought brought a wave of emotions surging through her. It had been a long time since she’d thought about cooking in any way besides providing herself with the essentials. Maybe while she was here she could play around in the kitchen. For her own amusement, of course. Not because she wanted to impress Jack and the rest of the Rockfort men.
In addition to sandwiches, she pulled out coleslaw and potato salad that they hadn’t served earlier.
They all helped themselves and carried plates to the kitchen table, along with coffee.
“I’m checking into Trainer’s finances,” Shane said after he’d chewed and swallowed a bite of roast beef sandwich.
“How do you do that?” Morgan asked.
“We have a program that can look at bank records.”
Morgan kept her gaze on him. “Isn’t that illegal?”
He laughed. “You could say it was illegal for him to torture Jack. Or burn your house down. I’m not losing any sleep over how we nail him.”
“I guess that’s right.”
“What did you find out?”
“That he’s getting regular infusions of cash that’s being transferred from an account in the Cayman Islands.”
“Where people like to hide money that might not have come from legitimate sources.”
“It could be from legitimate sources too, but it could be there to avoid paying taxes.”
She nodded.
Jack set down his sandwich. “And you haven’t found out who owns the account?”
“Not unless I can find someone who has better access to the banking system. But there is some other information I might be able to get.”
“Like what?”
“Like when the account was established.”
“You think Trainer owns the account?” Morgan asked.
“I’m betting it’s someone else,” Shane said.