Flee the Night

by Susan May Warren

  Sweat trickled down her neck. She fought her racing breath. This was a bad idea. Again, her impulses would cost the man she loved his life, like they had in Kazakhstan. She reached out as her legs went weak. She felt something move beneath her hand and pulled back. Some sort of reptile scurried under a rock in the beam of the flashlight.

  She shivered as she pulled out her map. Choices lay before her. Picking her way through the cavern, hoping to find an entrance on the other side. Or following the wall and veering east at the first possible tunnel.

  She ran her hand over the rock while she moved along the edge, her heart leading the way. Suddenly the wisdom behind the kidnapper’s choice as a drop point made perfect sense. If he killed her—or Micah—in the caves, their bodies would decay before anyone found them—if ever. It made for a convenient and easy burial ground. Especially these wild caves that might never be explored. The thought strengthened her step. Surprise was her only ally.

  She found an entrance behind a rockfall, had to drop to her knees to follow it. Holding her flashlight in her mouth, she scampered through the wormhole, pulling herself through the last five feet on her stomach.

  The sound of soft voices made her pause. Holding her breath, she heard the static of a radio, an answering call. She checked her watch: 10:03. Had it been only eighteen agonizing minutes? She flicked off the light, stuck it in her pants, then crawled forward.

  She emerged in the gray dusk produced by the sphere of a radiant lithium light in a small cavern. Lacey crept up behind a rock and peered over.

  Micah was propped against one wall. Tape covered his eyes and lashed his hands behind his back. He was badly hurt, but she saw anger in the set of his jaw.

  Probably because the man across from him was laughing. “She’s left you to die, just like she did her husband.”

  Micah faced straight ahead, but a muscle twitched in his jaw.

  Lacey felt sick. She closed her hand over the rabbit’s foot in her pocket, suddenly believing in luck.

  No. Something more than luck.

  Help me, Lord, she thought, trying not to flinch. For Micah’s sake.

  “She’s late. You’d better hope she’s not trying to double-cross me. Because, ploy or not, I have no trouble killing you. Just to remind her that I don’t leave a trail.”

  Lacey’s heart raced in shock. Roland Berg! John’s handler. She crept back, and her foot sent a flurry of stones skittering along the cave floor.

  Roland turned and flashed his light toward her.

  She ducked but her heartbeat thudded, betraying her in her ears.

  “You’re there, aren’t you, little lucky penny? I knew you’d come. Just like you came for John.”

  Lacey held her breath.

  Footsteps. Then the cha-ching of a handgun chambering a round. “Come here, Penny. Or the great Jim Micah dies.”

  Micah felt as if he’d been drilled about thirty times in the chest. He fought through a web of pain as he imagined Lacey rising from whatever hiding place she’d secured, raising her arms, and glaring at his captor.

  “Somehow I should have guessed that you were behind this,” Lacey said, her voice hard. “You’ve been feeding Hillman my information for years, haven’t you?”

  “Lacey, you have debts to pay. Yes, Hillman Oil needs your Ex-6 system, but Frank doesn’t have the brains to see the big picture. This is about more than just decoding secrets.”

  Micah raced to grasp the meaning of the words and identify the speaker. Again, the familiarity of the voice throbbed in the back of his mind. Where had he heard it before?

  “I think it’s time for the truth, Berg.”

  Berg? As in Roland Berg? NSA deputy director? Micah felt ice rush down his spine. Lacey had been dead-on to suspect the NSA. Except why did Roland kidnap her daughter? Unless this wasn’t NSA business.

  Micah felt the blunt end of the pistol dig into his temple. He heard Lacey’s breath catch, the shuffle of feet, before she spoke. “I have what you want. Don’t hurt him.”

  “Funny, we’ve been here before, haven’t we? And again, I caught you before you could tape my meeting and turn me in.” He made a tsking noise, then paused. “Come here.” His voice turned hard. “Closer.”

  Micah tensed, hearing Lacey’s feet move against the rocky floor.

  “Raise your arms.”

  “Keep your hands off me,” Lacey said, but Micah heard her quick intake of breath and felt ill at the scenes that played in his imagination.

  “You still can’t follow the rules, can you?” A sharp slap made Micah jump.

  Micah heard something tinny drop to the cave floor, then the crunch of metal.

  “Who’s listening to our conversation, Lacey?”

  “No one. That was a gift from a friend.”

  Micah heard the static of the radio, then Berg’s voice. “Come back, Shin. She’s here.”

  “And here I thought you worked for Hillman,” Lacey continued. “Turns out he works for you.”

  “Everyone works for me, honey.”

  Micah heard Lacey’s voice sharpen with accusation. “My e-mail wasn’t intercepted by Ishmael Shavik back in Kuwait. You sent him.”

  “John was always too cocky for his own good—and yours. I’m surprised that you didn’t catch on to him years before. You really don’t believe all those out-of-country trips were on company business, do you?”

  Micah gritted his teeth, seeing behind his blindfolded eyes the pain flashing in Lacey’s eyes, but her voice was surprisingly calm. “John loved me in his own way.”

  Director Berg laughed. “Well, you may be foolish at love, but at least you’ve got brains where it counts. Where’s Ex-6?”

  Micah leaned back against the wall, felt for a sharp rock, and began sawing at the tape binding his wrists.

  “No wonder you squashed the investigation on Hillman. You knew he wasn’t at the helm.” She gasped. “You killed his daughter, didn’t you?”

  “Hillman didn’t take me seriously. He set fire to his business, thinking I might believe that all the gasification plans were destroyed. But I’m not that stupid. Hillman is a visionary, and even if he can’t implement the plans in America, there are plenty of other countries who will overlook environmental havoc for hard cash. I knew Hillman would re-create his program. The money was just too enticing. You see, nothing escapes my vision.”

  “John trusted you.”

  “Yes, and that made his death that much more painful. It is so much easier to manipulate those who trust. But you aren’t that easily fooled. That’s why you tried to surveil my meeting, right?”

  “I was trying to save John’s life and catch a traitor.” Her acrid tone echoed in the chamber.

  Micah freed his hands and slowly turned them, ripping off the tape.

  “I’m no traitor. I’m a patriot—loyal to my own interests.” Berg gave a huff of scorn. “You should know better than anyone that you have to look out for yourself or you’ll get burned. I learned that too well after my daughter died. She languished for months in agony while I tried to save the very people who refused to let me rush to her bedside. She died without seeing her daddy. He was off fighting an unseen war, so that Americans could keep their fists on their cash.” Micah heard a flint of pain in his voice. “The only real patriots are those protecting their own skin.”

  “No. There are people willing to fight for the things they believe. People like our soldiers overseas, standing in the gap for freedom. People like Micah and his friends, the ones who risk their lives for others.”

  “Ah, see, Lacey, I knew that about you. You’ve always looked to be a part of something greater than yourself. I’m your greatest fan, don’t you see? I’m the one who convinced Director Morgenstern that you could build Ex-6. I kept funds funneling in your direction. I’m the one who made sure no one interfered, even when Ishmael could taste blood. I’m even the one who found little Emily and kept her safe. I’m your savior, because I believed in your big dreams. And now you’re g
oing to save me.” Micah heard another slap and winced. Berg’s voice hardened. “Where’s Ex-6?”

  “No wonder you don’t need the prototype,” Lacey said softly. “You already have the copy I made you.”

  He chuckled. “Copy? I thought we had the original. I should have known you’d double-cross the NSA. I guess I’ll need your Ex-6 hardware also, Mrs. Montgomery.”

  Micah ripped the tape off his eyes. Although dimly lit, the room blinded him with color and distorted shadows.

  Lacey was sitting on the cave floor, glaring at Deputy Director Roland Berg. When Micah focused, he saw a trickle of blood run from her lip. He had the uncontrollable urge to murder Roland Berg slowly with both hands around his neck. So much for being an iceman. If anything turned him to fire, it was seeing Lacey wounded.

  Lacey didn’t so much as glance at Micah, but he saw her shift her weight. “Why do you want it?” she asked Berg.

  He laughed. “I’m a broker. Nothing more, nothing less. I find what people want and connect the dots—for a very nice price. The North Koreans have a need; you have a product. Secrets, Lacey. I’ve been selling them for years. And poor Frank … well, he doesn’t know that the men he hired actually work for me.

  “Unfortunately, my contacts in North Korea ran into a bit of trouble with the researchers we sent in. Evidently the researchers made the mistake of trying to bargain their freedom for the code to unlock the gasification program they developed. What they didn’t know is that we had you and your Ex-6. How ironic that the very refinery program you went to Kazakhstan to save is the one you now will be handing to the Koreans by giving them Ex-6. Frank doesn’t know his windfall appointment to the Energy Commission is really my ticket to the helm of Hillman Oil. Or that he’s about to make me and my associates very, very rich. I can’t wait to tell him.”

  Berg must have smiled because Lacey looked nearly sick. “I’m almost glad you disrupted our plans seven years ago. Think of the money I would have lost.”

  Lacey glared at him. “You won’t get away with selling the secrets, you know. I have other copies.”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. In the end, I’ll be very rich and living somewhere off the grid—”

  “Don’t bet on it. I activated Ex-6. As you know, the second

  I went online, the NSA started tracking me. They’re probably outside right now, waiting for you.”

  “And who do you think they’ll call first? C’mon, Lacey, don’t be stupid. I’ll just show them your dead body and tell them that Mr. Micah here caught you betraying your country. You shot each other in a fit of rage.”

  Lacey looked at Micah. “I’d never do that,” she said quietly.

  Berg shook his head in disgust.

  She turned her attention back to Berg. “I’ll find you. Even if you get away, I will too, and I’ll follow you to the far end of the ocean. You know I will.”

  He shook his head. “You know, that is one thing I do believe.” He held the gun to her head. She didn’t even blink.

  Micah went cold.

  Berg sighed. “It’s time to retire, don’t you think?”

  Lacey lifted her chin to stare at Berg with icy eyes. “I agree. I’m tired of running too.” She sprung up, kicked his arm. A shot chipped at the cave wall. She whirled and landed the next kick on his jaw. He hit the ground on his knees as the gun skittered away.

  Lacey leaped toward the gun. Berg swept it up and squeezed off a shot toward Lacey. She didn’t even flinch when the shot whizzed past her head.

  Micah fought with the bonds around his ankles.

  Lacey landed on Berg and straddled his chest. Berg clipped her across the face, sending her flying. Berg launched toward her, rage in his eyes.

  Micah ripped the tape. “Lacey!” He bounded to his feet.

  Lacey’s eyes connected with his. “Run!”

  Micah lunged for Berg, but his leg buckled.

  Berg grabbed Lacey by the hair and shoved the gun against her neck. “I should have done this myself seven years ago.”

  With a roar of fury, Micah tackled Berg.

  Another shot, this time behind him. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Lacey running full out toward another attacker.

  Berg’s fist connected with Micah’s jaw and pain exploded in his head. Then Berg pointed the gun at his chest. Micah strong-armed the gun away. Another shot pinged the cave ceiling. Stones showered around them. Micah’s heartbeat swished in his ears; sweat pooled on his neck.

  Another shot. Then footsteps, running. He caught sight of Lacey just as she sprinted after the other shooter into a darkened tunnel.

  No! Panic shaved his concentration, and Berg wrenched the gun from Micah’s grasp. Micah saw the barrel flash. He blinked as darkness strobed in his eyes. Then he was falling.

  He heard the last sound of pain echoing through the cave chamber, the mournful cry of defeat.

  Chapter 21

  LACEY BACKPEDALED HER arms, stopping short of pitching into the yawn of air ahead of her. The mournful cry of the Korean raised gooseflesh as he descended into some great gulf. Her heartbeat filled her ears. She whipped out her flashlight, panned it across the darkness. Nothing but black.

  A shot echoed behind her. She jumped and the flashlight tumbled from her grip, bounced, and fell into the hole.

  Micah!

  Lacey grabbed the rock, catching herself before she too pitched over the edge. Okay, don’t panic. Just turn around. She gulped in a steady breath, turned, and braced her hand on the wall.

  She focused on the illuminating truth as she stumbled back toward the cavern, forcing her thoughts on facts, not on the very ugly image of Jim Micah lying in a pool of his own blood.

  She felt ill. She could hardly believe she’d played into Roland Berg’s games for so many years. Was this what John meant when he’d told her to stay behind and to trust no one?

  Except Micah. She should have trusted Micah.

  She ran ahead and jarred into a rock wall. What? Where was the cavern?

  Frustrated, she stood in the pitch-black surroundings, straining to see. The darkness invaded her pores, her eyes, her mouth. The smell of mold and the chill of the cavern crept up her pants, her shirt. The cold tightened a fist around her hope.

  Please don’t let Micah be gasping his last breath while I wander the corridors of the underworld!

  She wanted to scream, remembering him bound, wounded. She could hardly believe he’d somehow worked himself free, only to pounce on Berg just as the traitor was about to drill a bullet into her skull.

  She reached out, found another wall, and picked up her pace. She strained to hear footsteps, the sound of scuffling, anything besides her own shuffling footsteps melting into the dark.

  Nothing.

  Lacey had no illusions that Berg wouldn’t kill Micah or her. Frank Hillman hadn’t been behind Ishmael Shavik after all. In fact, maybe he’d been a victim. One whom she had blamed for years.

  Roland Berg had set up the buy in Kazakhstan—after she had told John that the gasification program Frank’s company had developed was nearly completed. Maybe Berg had recruited Frank for his plan, or maybe he’d simply blackmailed him. Obviously Ishmael Shavik had been sent to warn Hill-man—and catch John.

  Only she’d disrupted the buy. So who had called in Micah’s unit?

  Roland Berg? Of course. To clear himself of implication.

  Without Micah’s sacrifice, she would have never known the truth, never unlocked the secrets behind John’s death.

  Lacey heard the trickle of water, like the clinking of champagne glasses, rending the fabric of silence.

  She stopped. Darkness played tricks with her; light peppered her eyes. Or maybe it was just the memory of light. “Micah?”

  Nothing but the sounds of her heartbeat and her breath whooshing loudly in her lungs.

  She tensed. Had she heard water before?

  Turning, she continued, slower, listening. When the wall curved, she followed it and bashed into ano
ther dead end.

  Her heart leaped to her throat. Feeling the wall with both hands, she knelt, found an opening at her feet. Would it take her back to the chamber? Obviously she had taken a wrong turn or maybe two. And how long had she been walking? She turned on the light on her watch. It showed 11:30. She stood, turned, and started back in what she hoped was the right direction.

  The sound of water grew, along with the rush of her pulse. The darkness felt suffocating. She fought to break free, like she might in a pool of quicksand. But the harder she struggled, the farther it engulfed her.

  She sat down, folded her arms across her chest. Breathed in … out. She put a hand to her neck. The transmitter was gone—torn off in Berg’s rage.

  “Help, Conner,” she said softly into the swaddle of night, as if she still had it. “I’m lost.”

  “Micah, just hold still.” Sarah pushed hard against his reopened shoulder wound. His eyes nearly crossed, and he gritted his teeth.

  It made the pain only slightly more bearable to see Conner straddling Deputy Director Berg and tying him up with nylon climbing rope.

  “Where’s Lacey?” Micah asked. He’d barely unraveled the night’s most recent events. Lacey jumping the other shooter—a Korean. Conner nearly getting his head blown off as he kicked the gun out of Berg’s hands and inadvertently connecting with Micah’s shoulder. Sarah catching Micah a second before he hit the floor. Hank following Lacey into the black hole.

  “Does he know what he’s doing?” Micah asked. “I’d better go after him.”

  “Sit down. He’s been hanging around us for three days. It’s time he earned his keep.”

  Micah closed his eyes against another rush of pain. “Okay, that’s good, Sarah.”

  “You need a doctor and now.”