The Phoenix Agenda: A Thriller (A Rossler Foundation Mystery Book 6)

by JC Ryan

  Mark and Doug spoke in a chorus. “Coffee first, pal! We are parched!”

  As Patrick got busy with the coffee, he asked the obvious, “So what brought you two cellmates to my doorstep? Not to give me a lecture about eternity and hopefully not any serious trouble?”

  Doug replied with a straight face, “No more trouble than we know you can handle. We’re on our way to Boulder and misjudged the fuel consumption on this gas-guzzler outside. And for the last hour or so, it looked like we might also have a little engine trouble.”

  “The gas is no problem. I can help you with that, but I must warn you I’m not much of a mechanic, especially choppers. You guys in a hurry?”

  “Yes. Unfortunately, we have to get back to Boulder urgently. We’ve got a crucial meeting scheduled for first thing in the morning.”

  “Okay, in that case, let’s grab that pot of coffee and your mugs and move that bird into the empty hanger at the end. I have good lighting there.”

  ***

  When Brideaux came to his senses a few hours after he’d been sedated, he started screaming orders immediately.

  “Where have those sons of bitches gone with my libraries? Go and visit every one of those fuckin’ Rossler bastards, including their women and children and the idiots working for them. Make them talk, and if they don’t want to speak, bring them to me! I am personally going to skin each one of them alive. They’ll learn not to try and make a fool of John Brideaux!”

  The frightening and painful visits from “FBI agents” to the remaining Foundation staff demanding the whereabouts of the Rosslers and other key employees produced nothing but total ignorance. No amount of torture and threatening produced any results.

  Reports to Brideaux all had a common theme - “vanished into thin air, disappeared like mist before the sun, they are gone, vanished with no word to anyone” The neighbors didn’t know anything, hadn’t seen anything. They had no idea. Brideaux went mad. Waving his gun to prevent his people from sedating him again, he was swearing as no one had ever heard a human swear before.

  That uneasy feeling of doubt in Brideaux’s stomach that started earlier was nauseating by now. Fear was taking hold. He knew he had a problem. He’d never know peace as long as the Rosslers and their brilliant scientists had access to the Tenth and Eighth Cycle libraries. Until he could find them and those libraries, he would always have to look over his shoulder.

  “This is what you get for being nice to people! I did not shoot or capture those motherfuckers in the canyon when I had the chance to do so. I spared their lives. I showed them mercy, and this is how they thank me! Jason, I want them now! You go back to that canyon and get them. Let me know when you have them.”

  “Yes sir, immediately, I’m on my way,” the man he addressed as Jason squeaked while scurrying away, obviously scared out of his wits by Brideaux’s fury.

  “Oh and Jason, just in case you were wondering, you have my personal authorization to shoot any motherfucker that stands in your way.”

  “Yes sir.”

  With a niggling feeling of uncertainty about his future and that of the world Eligo Rarus envisioned at stake, Brideaux barked more orders to subordinates to put out contracts on the Rosslerites in the crime world. Let police in every likely jurisdiction, the FBI, the CIA, and other alphabet-soup agencies know – they were wanted for heinous crimes. Call the NSA flunkies to track cell phones, landlines, Internet activity and every possible lead or trace.

  “Find them!” he screamed.

  ***

  Doug and Patrick quickly disappeared into the mechanics of the chopper, leaving Mark, who was not mechanically minded, alone with his second mug of coffee on an old motorcar seat against the wall. The sounds that came from the two crawling around under the chopper were not encouraging.

  “Ahh, there’s oil here, not good. Let’s follow this hose and see where the oil is coming from.”

  Despite a few cups of coffee, Mark soon dozed off. When he opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was the early morning sun streaming in through the hanger door. Next, he became aware Doug was standing in front of him saying something to him, but he couldn’t make out what.

  “Sorry, what was that?”

  Doug repeated, “We have bigger problems than I hoped would be the case. Both engines.”

  Mark was fully awake by now and sat up when he heard those words. “Damn, that’s no good. Do you have any idea how long it will take?”

  “Negative,” Doug replied. “But Patrick says there’s a mechanic who might have a better understanding of helicopter engines. He should be here within the next hour or so.”

  “Damn again. The one thing we don’t have on our side is time ... ” Mark stopped mid-sentence for a second or two as his mind raced with thoughts of what had to be done now. He dropped his voice so Patrick wouldn’t hear him. “Well, I guess we have no choice. We’ll have to wait then. We’ll also have to keep up our act with Patrick. I’ll walk outside the hanger and make a ‘call’ to our offices in Boulder to let them know to postpone that ‘important meeting’ we were supposed to have later today.”

  “Yep. Let’s do that,” Doug replied immediately.

  “Okay great. I’ll ask him a bit later if I could borrow his truck to go and have a ‘look around town’ as I’ve never been to Farmington,” Mark said with a little smile on his face.

  Mark got up and acted out the phone call on his switched off mobile phone outside of earshot of Patrick.

  The mechanic turned up about an hour later and on request from Patrick started his inspection right away. About forty minutes after he started, he stood away from the chopper shaking his head “I’m not all that familiar with the Rolls Royce engines, although I expect I know more than you two. You’re right about the oil leaks, which isn’t good news. Especially since it was hard to find where it was coming from. The starboard engine is the better of the two, but I need some tools from my truck to open up a few things and see what I can find.

  “I’ll definitely try to fix it, but I can’t guarantee anything.” He glanced at Doug’s disappointed face and said, “If you don’t have far to go, you could do pit stops to check the oil and make sure the engines don’t overheat, and of course take plenty of oil with you. The only good news is that’s it’s highly unlikely both engines would go at the same time, so you should still be able to bring her down if need be.”

  He gave them a guestimate of four hours to do what he could, and they had to be satisfied with that. He collected his tools from his truck and got busy.

  Vanished from society

  The distance from Boulder to the Rabbit Hole, as the Rosslerites baptized their hiding place, was not too far from Big Timber, and about eighty miles from Billings. Montana was a little over five hundred miles from Boulder. The challenge was for everyone to get there before dawn the next morning after they executed their bug-out plan.

  Thanks to the excellent teamwork and cooperation managed with military precision by Sarah, Salome, and Luke, all groups except Sarah and Ben were on the road shortly after darkness fell. They had enough nighttime to get there, as long as they drove continuously, which meant alternating drivers.

  Salome and Luke were diligent in their preparations. As far as they could, they gave each group different routes to travel. They assigned each vehicle a few alternative locations along the way so the sudden increase in demand for fuel was not reduced to just one or two gas stations and was therefore less likely to attract attention

  Personal disguising techniques were also part of the plan, changing their looks so that they were not easily recognized. To this end, Salome prepared a detailed makeup guide with complete instructions and images that she’d handed to each of the selected families weeks ago. They had to study it, buy the necessary goods and keep it ready for exactly an emergency evacuation such as this.

  When the evacuation message reached them they all swung into action. Time was of the essence now. There could be no last-minute grief, no regre
ts. It was get out now and don’t look back. Everything was packed and ready to leave the moment their transport arrived. There could be no mistakes.

  They then went through complete makeovers, the results of which would have made some ‘Extreme Makeover’ reality TV shows jealous. Blonds became redheads and brunettes and vice versa. Wigs of all colors, shapes and sizes, body paint, fake tattoos, head and neck scarves, caps, hats, sunglasses, earrings, nose rings and the odd lip ring were in high fashion. Short hair became long; some long hair was tied up in buns and hidden under hats and baseball caps. A few ponytails, hoodies, and of course sunglasses were very popular as well. Two of the men became outright sexy with skirts and high heels! So long as they played dumb – literally – and didn’t stagger around in the stilettos, they’d pass muster.

  Luke and Ryan turned up sporting moustaches and beards that would make a few frontiersmen of old, Amish, Jewish Rabbis, or Muslim men proud of them. Their efforts at camouflaging themselves were so effective that by the time they boarded their transport that night they had to be introduced to each other.

  The humor generated by their new looks helped to relieve the extreme stress they were suffering from leaving their homes. It was proving painful, travelling into the unknown - all of them aware that they might, in all likelihood, never return.

  Salome and Luke warned everyone that the disguises would only fool a human observer, not real computer facial recognition systems. Therefore they should at all cost avoid high-tech truck stops and other places where that sort of technology could be in operation.

  While things were not going well for Daniel and his six compatriots, it would have been a big relief to them to know that their families were on their way and safe.

  Salome cautioned everyone not to attract any attention to themselves and to take care despite their urgency to follow every rule of the road, especially adhering to the speed limit. All of the groups managed to cover the 500 miles that night, moving themselves and their gear into the Rabbit Hole.

  At sunrise the next morning, they had vanished from society.

  ***

  Ben Rossler, Daniel’s dad, was assigned to stay with Sarah to take care of the last bits and pieces and, as Luke quipped, to ‘switch off the lights.’

  They quickly packed the last few items into the van and headed to their destination, shortly before eleven o’ clock that night. They had to travel as far as they could before dawn and then find a place to lie low during the day.

  Over the four and a little bit hours it took them to reach Casper before dawn, they had a lot to talk and think about. Foremost in their minds were a husband and two sons as well as the others. They were painfully aware that they could not expect any news from them soon, but still hoped until the very last moment when they got into the van.

  “Sarah we must believe they are all alive and well and may be waiting for us at our new home by the time we arrive there. It is more than 1,000 miles by road from Flagstaff to Big Timber. But in a helicopter, even with a few fuel stops, they should be there long before us. Let’s hope and pray for that.”

  She put her hand on his arm, comforting him as well as herself.

  Independently of Daniel and his team, the two of them drew the same conclusions about John Brideaux’s possible actions.

  If not already, then very soon Brideaux would become aware of their evacuation of the Rossler Foundation offices as well as their homes, He would be plotting the ways and means of finding them. To their frustration, the radio in the van did not work at all. It was as dead as the proverbial doorknob and they had no means of hearing any news.

  By five o’clock the next morning, they managed to cover a little over 300 miles as they drove into Casper, Wyoming. They found a small motel on the outskirts of town. It was far enough from Boulder to feel a bit more relaxed about the distance between them and the danger posed by Brideaux or any of his collaborators.

  ***

  Four hours after dispatching Jason and some helpers back to the canyon to go and fetch the Rosslerites, Brideaux got an infuriating telephone call.

  “Jason make my day and tell me you got them, I can’t take much more of this shit.”

  “Mr. Brideaux I am sorry, but there is no trace of them. They’ve disappeared. We’ve checked everything, even the trails they could have followed by foot, but nothing turned up. We have no idea where they could be.”

  “Don’t say those words! I swear on my mother’s grave, if you say those words one more time, I will personally come and kill you! They are not ghosts - they have not disappeared!” He paused for breath, fighting down the fury. He had to remind himself he’d not come this far by losing his cool all the time. “People don’t disappear! People are always somewhere! I have sent you to find them! Go and find them - NOW.”

  “Yes, sir I’ll do my best.”

  “Jason don’t tell me about doing your best. Do it! Or you will be digging your own grave, and I’ll find someone else who can do the job. Don’t waste my time!” He ended the call and sat down. This is getting me nowhere. Think man, what would I do in the same circumstances? I’m alive, I am going to vanish…

  “Disappeared?” Slowly, the rage dropped to a simmer as he gathered his thoughts.

  Finally, he stood and announced, “So they’ve managed to evade us. Well that’s not going to last.” He looked around at the men who were standing nervously around. “Okay, we begin again.”

  His followers heard the calm in his voice and glanced fearfully at each other. This calm was far more deadly than the rages. This was the side of him that got him to the head of his game. Now it began.

  ***

  By the same sunrise, with no chopper in sight, Daniel and the men in the river hideout surmised that the mechanical problems must have been worse than Doug thought. The dread that Mark and Doug had been taken into custody by Brideaux’s outfit or the police, crossed Daniel’s mind. It was another reason for an unexpected delay that he didn’t want to entertain, and therefore he didn’t voice it.

  ***

  Jason, Brideaux’s henchman, was scared out of his wits by his last phone call to Brideaux. Now he conferred with his men to figure out how the Rosslerites got away and where they could be.

  ”There’s only one way Jase. It had to be by chopper,” his next-in-command stated.

  Jason thought a moment “You’re right. The first thing is get to Flagstaff and maybe Farmington, the nearest cities of any size, and ask around. Find out if someone there knows about helicopter flights in and out today.”

  Jason relaxed. He had the scent again. This time he would not be calling Brideaux until he had some positive information. He would have to wait.

  By midday, they’d picked up the trail when they found Mark and Doug’s friend in Flagstaff, who’d sold them the helicopter the day before. According to him, there were only two of them, Mark and Doug. They’d said they wanted to use the helicopter in their security business back in Boulder and that’s where they headed when they left last night after concluding the transaction.

  Jason knew better. That chopper made a trip to the canyon first.

  He made a few calculations about the fuel consumption and the range they could fly before having to refuel. Assuming they were indeed heading for Boulder, there could be few places where they could refuel, Farmington being one of them.

  He put his men on task to get in touch with all the airfields within that range.

  Shop crawling

  By midday, with the mechanic still working and no end in sight, Mark borrowed a truck from Patrick under the pretense of exploring the ‘metropolis’ of Farmington boasting a staggering forty-five thousand inhabitants.

  He drove into town camouflaged with a baseball cap and dark glasses. It was not a disguise that would fool any half-decent facial recognition system, but maybe just enough for anyone seeing him for the first time not to remember his face. He was not worried about encountering any sophisticated electronic facial recognition systems in Far
mington, though.

  He bought just a few items from a couple of different hardware stores and supermarkets, as well as an outdoors center. Here he stopped. It would be too easy for someone to remember a guy shopping for a big camping trip.

  About two hours later, the shop crawling was over, and he had enough food supplies to last the seven of them for two additional days. Among the items were a few flashlights, lots of batteries, and three world band radios that would be able to receive signals from FM and AM radio stations as well as shortwave from around the world. Those radios would possibly be their only way to find out what was going on in the world.

  Just as he was about to leave the last shop, his eye caught the image on a TV screen displaying the unmistakable red banner with the flashing words “Breaking News.” He stopped to see what the news flash was, and soon felt as if an ice cube was slowly sliding down his spine.

  There, right in front of his eyes on the screen, were clear images of Daniel, JR, Raj, and Roy. He moved closer so he could hear the announcement. They were wanted for the horrific killing of Robert Cartwright and the kidnapping of Joseph Yazzie. Having seen the horrible murder of Robert Cartwright, the police had reason to believe Yazzie could also be dead by now.

  A man who was introduced as the detective in charge of the case appeared on the screen. “In all my thirty years of crime scene investigation, I’ve seen some horrific murders, but this was the worst ever.”

  He went on to say “Evidence at the crime scene, showed signs of a frantic struggle. There were empty shell casings everywhere. It is entirely possible that some of the fugitives were wounded. Hospitals, clinics, and doctors are asked to be on the lookout for the men as they might be seeking medical attention. Do not to approach or confront the suspects; they are armed and extremely dangerous. Just contact the nearest police station or phone 911.”

  The shock for Mark increased as the reporter continued with the story, next showing the pictures of the wives of the four men, Sarah, Rebecca, Salome, and Sushma. “The women have all disappeared and may be assisting the suspects or be directly involved. They are wanted for questioning by the police.”