Bad Nights

by Rebecca York

  He headed back to the main gate, finding the defenders where he’d left them. He dragged the unconscious men to the side of the road and pulled the dead ones into the bushes where maybe Morgan wouldn’t see them.

  His mind was still processing what had happened. They’d made it out of Trainer’s death trap, but he wasn’t quite ready to leave the compound.

  When he returned, the Land Rover he’d requested was parked outside the office.

  “Find anything?” he asked Max as he joined the others inside.

  “Lots of nut job books on political theory and rebellion. The records must all be in the computer.”

  Jack sat down at the computer. When he touched the keyboard, the desktop lit up. It was a picture of the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City—after McVeigh had destroyed it.

  After typing in the password, Jack took a thumb drive from his pack and downloaded the contents of Trainer’s hard drive. Then he found several bulletin boards that the militia leader subscribed to as well as email addresses of the White House and some prominent Congressmen. To each of them he sent a message that said,

  “This is a final message from the leader of the Real Americans Militia, Wade Trainer. I am preparing to carry out my main mission. By the time you read this, I will have launched a deadly attack on the U.S. Capitol.”

  When he was finished, he wiped off the keyboard.

  “We’d better split,” he said as he turned away from the computer.

  “Why did you send that message?” Morgan asked as she followed him outside.

  “Because it will look like he was getting ready to deploy—and someone prevented it.”

  He gave Morgan and Shane a serious look. “I think we’d better stop at one of the barracks so you can both get dressed.”

  They ducked into a cabin that had been used for sleeping quarters, and Jack found her some pants. They were a reasonable fit, although she had to roll up the legs. And the only shoes she could find that came close to working were a pair of rubber flip flops.

  Shane quickly found a shirt.

  Outside again, they all climbed into the Land Rover, and Max pulled away.

  As they sped through the front gate, Jack was thinking that they still had a couple of jobs to do.

  They had to turn the deadly box over to someone who would know what to do with it. Probably that would be the Department of Homeland Security. In exchange Jack was going to get them all immunity for what had gone down at the militia camp.

  Chapter 31

  Now that Jack had done everything he could, he flopped into the backseat of the Land Rover beside Morgan. She reached for his hand, and he wove his fingers with hers.

  “Thank God you’re all right,” he whispered as Max drove out of the militia compound. There was a lot he wanted to say to her, but he couldn’t do it yet. And certainly not in front of his friends in the front seat.

  “And you,” she answered.

  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He needed to rest, but he had another motivation as well—avoiding conversation. When the car came to a stop, he looked up. They were at the airfield where they’d been towed up in the glider.

  Shane went to do a preflight check on the helicopter. When Jack had confirmation that they were ready to take off, he pulled out Trainer’s cell phone and dialed 911.

  “What is the nature of your emergency?”

  He lowered his voice to a gravelly whisper. “This is Wade Trainer. I want to report an incident at my militia compound.” He gave the address.

  “Can you be more specific, Mr. Trainer?”

  “Just get over here,” he said and clicked off.

  Morgan looked at him. “When the troops who are tranquilized wake up, won’t they tell the authorities what happened?”

  “Maybe. But I’m betting Trainer didn’t tell them my real name—or Shane and Max’s either. They won’t be able to identify us. And even if they come up with information, the local authorities have that fake message I sent where he’s declaring his intentions to attack.”

  She breathed out a sigh. “Yes.

  “And I’ve got something to give Homeland Security that will get us immunity.”

  “What?”

  “Some kind of deadly biological weapon from Fort Detrick. My guess is that Cunningham got it for Trainer.”

  “How?”

  “I guess they’ll find out.”

  ***

  They climbed into the helicopter, and Max took them up. As they headed for the safe house, Jack could see police cars on the road speeding to the militia compound. He didn’t know if it was in response to the 911 message or the Web message. Or maybe both.

  While Max piloted the helicopter, Shane used the communications equipment to check on some of their unfinished business.

  When they disembarked at the safe house, Shane was grinning broadly.

  “What?” Jack said as they climbed the steps to the porch.

  “I have an ID on Arthur Cunningham.”

  “How?”

  “Before we left, I took a few extra minutes to send his fingerprints to a friend in the FBI. His real name is Arthur Crispin. He’s a lawyer, and he was a five-term Congressman from Maryland. He also inherited a boatload of money from his parents. They made millions from cold remedies and liniments.”

  Jack gave him a long look. “You know I would have told you not to take the time.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m glad you did. Good work.”

  “We know where he lives,” Shane said.

  “And I have an idea about what to do to him,” Morgan said.

  They all turned to her. “You do?”

  “You know he’s the one who brought me to the militia compound?”

  “Yes.”

  Her face contorted. “I knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t get away from him.”

  “Not your fault,” Jack answered.

  She gave him a little nod, and he could see tears in her eyes.

  “I said it’s okay.”

  “I caused you all a lot of trouble. You could all have gotten killed because of me.”

  “No. Not you.” Jack pulled her close and held her for a moment before easing away. “Never think that. It was them—Trainer and Crispin.”

  He knew she was struggling to get control of her emotions.

  When she finally spoke, her voice was stronger. “When you told me about the biological agent, that gave me an idea.”

  As she began to outline her plan, the men grinned.

  “Can we pull it off?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Jack answered, thinking how much courage this woman had. She’d just been through an ordeal that would have left most women an emotional basket case. But she was thinking about how to turn the tables on the bastard who had captured her.

  ***

  Arthur Crispin blinked when he saw the lines of type come across the bulletin board.

  “This is a final message from the leader of the Real Americans Militia, Wade Trainer. I am preparing to carry out my main mission. By the time you read this, I will have launched a deadly attack on the U.S. Capitol.”

  He jumped up and whooped. He’d been worried, but that son of a bitch Trainer had done it! He’d taken care of Rockfort, and now he was on his way to the U.S. Capitol.

  He’d known the man was good. Apparently he’d decided to go right from cutting down the Rockfort men to the endgame.

  He called Trainer’s cell phone on his speed dial and punched the button. There was only a recorded message, but the guy was busy and probably on radio silence.

  He waited for the beep and left a message. “Big congratulations.”

  Next he snatched up the TV remote and turned on CNN. They were deep in the middle of a stupid debate about tax increases with the usual guys giving their usual opinions.

  Where was the news of the attack? Maybe it hadn’t happened yet. He started scanning the online news services, thinking that maybe they’d get it first. Or may
be all the reporters down there were dead. That thought had his heart beating faster.

  How many thousands would die? He hadn’t thought about that, just those legislators taking other peoples’ lives in their hands.

  They were done for now. And that deserved a celebration. He brought out a bottle of Krug Clos d’Amonnay, 1995, opened it with a flourish, and took down a Waterford flute from the set Louise had brought home from Ireland on their last trip together.

  On second thought, he got down two. One for her. He had no doubt that she was in heaven with their son and no doubt that they were both looking down on what he’d done with approval.

  He had pulled off a master coup. All it had taken was a great deal of money and the right man. And if they caught Trainer, so what? He could never tell anyone who had financed his chicken-shit militia because he didn’t know Arthur’s real name. And he was sure that none of those Rockfort guys were still alive to finger him, either.

  He had just taken a sip of the champagne when he heard a knock at the kitchen door. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Maybe it was something he’d ordered from one of the online stores where he liked to shop for coffee and cheese.

  As he started to call out, “Who is it?” the kitchen door blew off its hinges, and four white-clad figures stepped in.

  His mouth gaped open as he stared at them. It took a moment to realize they were even human—men wearing white hazmat suits that looked something like space suits, enclosing them from their large yellow boots to their insect-like helmets.

  Each of them wore an air tank on his back, attached by wide black straps. He could hear them breathing through the respirators, but he couldn’t even see their features because of the thick faceplates on the helmets.

  Why were they here? And why now?

  A sudden thought struck him. The attack had begun. And since he was a former Congressman, they were going to whisk him to a secure underground location until the government knew the area was safe again.

  He tried to grasp at that explanation, but it swam out of his mind as they surrounded him, closing in, making him feel like he couldn’t breathe.

  “What… what are you doing?”

  None of them answered as they formed a circle around him. He’d thought they had come to help him. Now he trembled as he tried to figure out their purpose.

  His eyes danced from one of the frightening figures to the other, looking for a way out. Seeing an opening, he tried to dart through, hoping he could make it to his den and lock the door. From there, he could get out a window.

  His plans went up in smoke when one of them grabbed him and spun him around, and he realized he’d never really had a chance to escape.

  “Don’t,” he choked out.

  “Where were you going?” a hard voice boomed.

  “You’re frightening me.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  He still couldn’t identify any of them. But there was something familiar about one of the voices. And one of them was smaller than the others. Maybe it was woman.

  “Arthur Crispin?” a grating voice asked.

  “Yes.”

  The figure turned to the champagne bottle on the counter. “I guess you were celebrating the attack on the U.S. Capitol. But there’s been a change of plans. The fun will be here.”

  He tried to make sense of that.

  “What? What attack?”

  “You know damn well,” a hard voice said.

  “No,” he protested again, looking from one to the other, searching for some signs of human compassion.

  The small person stepped forward. He tried to figure out who it was, but he stopped focusing on the figure’s distorted features when he caught sight of a metal box, about the size of a toolbox, with the words “Fort Detrick Labs” and “Extreme Biohazard” printed across the top.

  Arthur gasped, and his heart started to thump inside his chest when he saw it. “What… what’s that?” he quavered.

  “It’s that nasty biological agent you arranged to steal from Fort Detrick.”

  “No. Trainer took it to the Capitol. He said so.”

  “Actually, no,” the figure holding the box corrected him. “Wade Trainer didn’t really send that message. It was Jack Brandt who did it—after he finished off Trainer.”

  Arthur’s mouth had turned so dry he could no longer swallow. Through his terror, he looked at the figure more closely—and recognized the pretty nose. The bow of a mouth. Her blue eyes were fierce. It was the woman he’d kidnapped and taken to Trainer’s compound.

  “How…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. It had become impossible to speak as she sprung the latch on the box. Inside was another container, this one with a skull and crossbones on the top. There was an elaborate mechanism to hold it closed.

  When her gloved hand began working at the latch, he felt his whole body go cold.

  “We’re protected, and you’re not,” she said as she opened the box. Inside was a white powder. She gave it a shake, waving her gloved hand over the contents. The powder flew up in a little cloud that drifted toward Arthur.

  He began to cough and choke, his eyes watering as he tried to protect his face. But there was nothing he could do. The stuff clung to him, and he felt warmth spreading in his pants. Looking down, he saw that he had wet himself.

  “Why did you want to attack the Capitol?”

  “They killed my son.”

  “And you didn’t mind killing thousands of innocent people to get them,” the woman said, her voice a buzzing in his ears.

  “The Congress…” The words ended in a fit of choking.

  Two of the others in the white suits grasped Arthur’s arms, holding him upright so that he couldn’t collapse. The door opened again, and four more men stepped into the room.

  Arthur’s eyes bugged out as he stared at them. They weren’t wearing any kind of protection. They were dressed in ordinary dark business suits.

  One spun him around and cuffed his hands behind his back.

  “Department of Homeland Security. Arthur Crispin, you are being held under indefinite suspension on suspicion of treason.”

  He realized he had been deceived, that the men and woman in the white suits had wanted him to think he was being exposed to a deadly biological agent.

  “That wasn’t ZR 427?” he choked out.

  “No. It was an irritant. How did you like getting tricked?” Jack Brandt took off the helmet of his hazmat suit and gave Arthur a satisfied smile.

  His terror was replaced by anger. “You son of a bitch.”

  “It was just a joke, Arthur. Not like what you did to us. You really thought you were going to get us all killed, didn’t you?”

  The others took off their helmets, and he saw Shane Gallagher along with Max Lyon and Morgan Rains.

  He focused on the injustice of what they’d done to him, not the way he’d used the Rockfort Security men and Rains. They’d been a means to an end. That was all.

  “I want a lawyer.”

  One of the Homeland Security men spoke. “Maybe later. Under the Patriot Act, we can hold you without legal counsel.”

  “But—”

  They marched him outside to a waiting vehicle, a van with no windows, and he was thinking that perhaps he would never see the outside world again.

  ***

  Jack watched Crispin go. He should hate the man, but he thought he understood him. Grief had driven him to extreme acts. Jack knew how that could happen.

  But if you recognized what was happening, maybe you could stop it. Especially if you had some help.

  Chapter 32

  Morgan stripped off her biohazard suit as she watched the van with Crispin drive away.

  “What happens now?” she asked.

  “Crispin’s caught in a system he isn’t going to like—where his money isn’t going to do him a damn bit of good.”

  “He put himself there.”

  “Or we did,” Shane said.

  The three men had also taken off the spec
ial suits.

  They’d come from an old Navy SEAL friend who now worked for Homeland Security. Bud Lewis. After Jack had explained what had happened, Lewis had gone along with Morgan’s plan to turn the tables on Crispin. He’d taken charge of the deadly compound from Fort Detrick, provided the gear, and also arranged for Crispin’s arrest.

  Morgan was still looking at Jack. And she realized that the other two Rockfort men had left the room. When she heard an engine start, she looked outside. The other car drove away, leaving her and Jack alone.

  “Where are they going?”

  “Back to the office to deal with the authorities. There’s a lot of mopping up to do.”

  She moistened her dry lips. “What about us?”

  The question could have meant a lot of things. He chose to say, “We’re going somewhere else.”

  She climbed into the other vehicle, and Jack slid behind the wheel. When she saw the rigid set of his jaw, she clasped her hands in her lap. This could be good-bye, for all she knew. And if that’s what Jack had in mind, she was going to fight every way she knew to change his mind.

  To her surprise, they drove back to the property where she’d been in hiding, but they bypassed the main building.

  “We’re not going there?” she asked as they passed the Victorian farmhouse.

  “Not after Cunningham—I mean Crispin—broke in.”

  She appreciated that he didn’t go into details. He continued up the road. When he rounded the helicopter hangar, she saw a small building nestled in the woods that might have been a farmworker’s cottage.

  Jack pulled up in front, cut the engine, and got out. She joined him outside, steadying herself against the car door as he came around to her side of the vehicle.

  “What are we doing?” she asked in a voice she couldn’t quite hold steady.

  “We have to talk.”

  “Are you getting ready to leave me because you think it’s the right thing to do?”

  “I should.”

  The words made her throat go tight.

  “But I don’t think I can.”

  “Thank God.”

  She reached for him, pulling him into her arms.

  “Oh Lord, Morgan,” he whispered as she held him to her. “What are we going to do?”