The Alex Troutt Thrillers: Books 4-6 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set Book 2)

by John W. Mefford

Archie had explicit instructions from the two real electricians to run out to the truck and grab two tools. By the time he reached the door of the small shed that housed the main electrical box, his mind had already scrambled the request. He had no clue what gibberish had spilled from their mouths. Something about a V and a stripper. But he was damn sure he wouldn’t find either of them in the truck.

  He snorted out a brief chuckle, then covered his mouth as he turned back around. Donny and Norm were knee deep in wires, trying to solve whatever issue the FBI had concocted. While they were aware that Archie was affiliated with the FBI, they had no idea that all the tools in the world wouldn’t resolve this issue. The local FBI brain trust had ensured as much.

  Stepping outside he saw the last glimmer of sun dip below the trees, the rest of the sky painted in gun-metal gray. A heavy gust of wind shifted his thick head of hair—the feeling was strange to him; very few things could shift his hair. As he walked toward the truck, a spotlight positioned off the corner of a compound building nearly blinded him. He held his hand up to his eyes and squinted to look at the four main buildings. Only a handful of the windows were softly illuminated. The compound was running at a reduced electrical capacity on fuel-powered generators, or so he’d been told. They seemed to have a backup plan for just about everything.

  How long would the fuel last? As temperatures dipped more below freezing each night, heat would become a precious commodity. He reached the truck, his eyes making note of the spindly, jagged shadows cutting across the rooftop. Trees, so many trees, all around the compound, up and down the hill in which the buildings were slotted like Lego blocks. There was something eerie about how the leafless tree limbs appeared to be reaching out, ready to gouge a passerby, or maybe even pluck them off the surface and devour them whole.

  “Jesus, Arch, the countless Harry Potter weekend movie binges have got you all freaked out. Chill, dude.” He acknowledged that talking to himself had become a mainstay in his life, just like his endless search for the perfect woman—a friend for life, a soul mate with whom he could connect.

  He let out another snort. Where did that line of emotional bullshit come from? He was all about chasing ass, even at his advanced middle age. Although he knew he didn’t look a day older than twenty-eight. Yep, old Arch was still in his prime. He could wait a while before settling down to the boring life, a house full of brats and a bitchy wife. Maybe in another ten years…if they were lucky.

  Behind the front seat, he rummaged through the blue toolbox, searching for something that would make him think about a V and a stripper. He couldn’t help but smile. He then noticed two other toolboxes, one red and the other gray. They did say the blue toolbox, right?

  Crap.

  “Fuck it.” He blindly picked up a hand tool with a yellow grip and tiny rivets down the side of the metal and stuffed it in his coat pocket. His finger brushed against the flash drive he’d brought. How in the hell would he be able to find a computer in this massive complex without being caught? His gut twisted into a knot, wondering if he had over-sold his capabilities…again.

  He took in a breath and shut the door, thinking through what story he could use if he got caught meandering through one of the main buildings. Maybe he’d wing it, like he had so many other times in his life. He walked back to the shed, opened the door, and tossed the tool to Donny.

  “What’s this?” He held the tool with two fingers, as if it were contaminated with some deadly coating.

  “The V stripper thingy. Gotta find a restroom. I need to go…bad,” he said, closing the door just as Donny said something to the effect of “What the hell?”

  Archie walked toward the dark side of the large, two-story, rectangular building to his left, near the line of trees at the back of the camp’s main area. Steam pumped from his mouth with each breath, disappearing into the darkening sky. Kind of reminded him of one of his first awesome Christmas presents as a kid: a toy locomotive that somehow produced a tiny swirl of gray smoke as it raced around the figure-eight track. Thinking back, that shit was probably toxic and now banned in every country across the world.

  Reaching the back of the building, he rested his hand on the stucco siding and peeked around the corner. Nestled in between four bushy evergreens, he spotted a small structure. He didn’t recall seeing this building on Alex’s phone earlier, nor on his previous visit. A surge of adrenaline made his fingertips tingle. Or were his hands starting to freeze? He blew warm air into his hands and noticed a single yellow light above a door. No windows that he could see, but he didn’t have the best sightline, and the building was a good hundred feet away. One quick glance over his shoulder, and he stepped toward the unknown building, all of his senses on high alert.

  An owl hooted, and he spun around to face the trees. Nothing more than a spider web of branches. Hold it…something moved. He leaned that way, narrowing his eyes. Then, with a quick burst, an owl propelled into the sky, soaring over his head and out of sight.

  Releasing a breath, he turned his focus back to the building and continued to move closer. He shifted his weight to walk on his toes—anything to reduce any audible hint of his presence. Twenty feet away he noticed a small windowpane about the size of his hand built into the door. Perfect.

  He tiptoed one more step…and the door opened. He froze for a split second—he was in no-man’s-land. He lowered his body and dove to his left. Digging his fingers into wet leaves, he lifted his head and saw a branch from one of the evergreens. He had a bit of cover. Was it enough?

  “I appreciate all of your extra work, Levi. Truly, you are a testament to all the other AFGs,” a man’s voice said.

  Peering between the branches, Archie saw two men standing outside the door. “Thank you, Jamin. Coming from you, it means a great deal.”

  Of the two, this one was tall, over six feet, with golden hair. He still had a baby face. He couldn’t have been much older than eighteen.

  “I know I still have a lot to learn. How to serve better, how to be more humble.”

  The other man, Jamin, put a hand on Levi’s shoulder. Jamin was older and shorter, shaped like a pear, with shoulders that hunched forward.

  Some of these biblical names sound like jeans, Archie thought.

  “So many people on this planet have not seen the light like you have, Levi.”

  Levi released an awkward smile, stuffing his oversized hands into his pockets.

  Jamin held up a single finger. “Serving is what this is all about. The message that Malachi has delivered ever since he was guided by the Lord to establish Camp Israel.”

  “I’ve seen a lot of people serving and helping the cause in different ways,” Levi said.

  Archie couldn’t tell if the kid was sucking up or just naively following the older man’s direction. It was obvious this Jamin character was one of the main guys. And the way he described Malachi’s position sounded as if this Malachi might be the ringleader of the whole group.

  Would have been nice for Vandiver to share more information. Archie had been on plenty of missions during his stint with the CIA, and he knew firsthand that information was king. The more the better, especially if he had to go undercover. He recalled one such mission that involved tracking a Russian diplomat to a brothel in Nevada.

  Get it together, Arch. Focus on the here and now.

  “I’m glad you see it, Levi. Others, I’m not so sure about,” Jamin said, turning around, looking up toward the sky in Archie’s direction. Archie went stiff, hoping the man hadn’t seen his gray jacket.

  “What do you mean, Jamin?”

  “Well, Malachi and I are growing concerned,” he said, turning around to face the kid again. “There are some in this group who have allowed the Devil to enter their hearts.”

  The kid scrunched his eyes together. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

  “It’s okay, Levi. Malachi, Ezra, me, and the core group, we will always be here for you and those who follow the path of our mission: to live a holy life, and to
spread that word and our values globally.”

  Levi nodded. “It’s not just our mission, it’s our passion.”

  Jamin chuckled. “I know that’s part of the script you and the other AFGs read, but it sounds like you believe it in here.” He touched his chest.

  “I do, Jamin. I truly believe it’s why I’ve been put on this earth.”

  A smile stretched across Jamin’s face, and even in the reduced light, Archie could see trenches form on the sides of the older man’s mouth.

  “What an example you are, Levi. I’m going to talk to Malachi to see how we can reward you for all of your work.”

  “There’s really no need, sir. I have everything I want right here at Camp Israel.”

  Jamin squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “Very well. What do you say we go in and have some hot chocolate?”

  They took a couple of steps until Levi stopped and held up his hand. “Don’t I need to lock up the Center?”

  Archie wondered, The center of what? “Again, you think of everything, Levi. After our hot-chocolate break I need to run a couple of reports to share with Malachi. I want him to see the good work you and the others have done this past week.”

  The pair walked toward a different door at the rear of the building, one Archie hadn’t noticed at first. Once it banged shut, Archie paused for a brief moment, replaying the conversation he’d just heard. What the hell were AFGs? And why did that Levi fellow talk like he was reading from a script?

  Archie pushed to a standing position, checked all around and then walked to the door of the small structure. He peeked inside and saw no one else, so he slowly turned the knob and walked inside, quickly scanning the room. Computer monitors, phones, and headsets. Eight separate workstations, four on each side of the wall. He shuffled deeper into the room and noticed tower computers under each of the workstations, which were no more than three feet wide with glass partitions separating each one.

  The computers released a soft humming noise.

  At the far end of the room sat a simple metal desk, another monitor, and a laptop. He walked around and jiggled the mouse to wake up the computer. The black screen came to life, but it was locked. His eyes didn’t blink. The image on the screen’s wallpaper showed a man with great intensity standing next to a lectern. He wore a ripped T-shirt and held a Bible high in the air. Two women were on their knees in front of him with their heads bowed. His muscles rippled across his exposed chest and shoulders.

  Was that Malachi, the person Jamin had spoken about with such reverence? For the first time, Archie got a sense of the level of deception going on at Camp Israel. He replayed the words from the naïve kid, Levi: “It’s not just our mission, it’s our passion.” He’d read plenty about groups of people being brainwashed by their leaders. Jim Jones. David Koresh. But something about this Malachi and Jamin duo seemed to take it to an entirely different level.

  And to make matters even more bizarre, Alex’s mom was involved with this group. What kind of crazy woman does Alex have as a mom? Biting into his chapped lip, Archie knew he didn’t have the knowledge to break through the security, certainly not very quickly. But he didn’t think it would be necessary. He pulled out the flash drive and slipped it into the port on the side of the laptop. Vandiver told him he needed to keep it in one of the computers for two minutes in order for the program to load properly. He put his phone on a two-minute timer, then glanced to his right—another door, barely discernible with its beige color and matching frame blending in with the wall. He took a step closer and read a small handwritten sign on it: Server Room.

  He opened it and saw racks of servers and cables. “Impressive,” he whispered to himself. The room was illuminated only by the flashing orange, green, and red lights from the purring machines all around him. There must have been thirty or more such boxes, cables and wires running everywhere. But it didn’t seem cluttered or disorganized. Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact.

  Archie rubbed his mustache, trying to make sense of it all.

  He heard the door in the main room open.

  Fuck!

  Turning quickly, he saw the flash drive still in the laptop. He slowly brought the server room door toward him, without making the extra noise to shut it all the way. With his sights focused on the door, he backpedaled deeper into the room that held the technology guts for Camp Israel. Surrounded by racks and servers on both sides, he retreated until he felt the back wall with his hand.

  He heard a person’s voice. It was loud, but he couldn’t make out the words. It sounded like Jamin, the old guy. It had to be, right? A few seconds passed and Archie felt lightheaded. He’d forgotten to breathe. He released a lungful of air and tried to think through his options.

  What options? He was screwed with a capital S.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck!

  Wait, his phone. He could call Norm or Donny to distract Jamin away from this so-called Center. He reached into his pocket. Empty. Where was the—Shit!

  He must have left it next to the computer. He rammed his fist into his head three quick times, telling himself he was a fucking idiot.

  Then, like an angel sent from above, his hand on the wall felt something metal. Using the glow of the flashing server lights, he turned and saw an inverted metal door handle. He felt the seam around the door. It was smaller than the average-sized door, maybe four feet high, a couple of feet wide, as if it had been put in place after the building had been constructed.

  A means of escape to the outside? He hoped so.

  He might be able to get out of this predicament without being caught and provide Vandiver access to the group’s cyber footprint. He could erase all of his debt and stay out of prison. Hallelujah!

  A second before turning the door handle, he paused. Could an alarm system be hooked into this door? He ground his teeth, agonizing over what to do. Had Jamin noticed the server room door was slightly ajar? Had the man not seen the flash drive or Archie’s phone? If he had seen something, wouldn’t he have opened the door and confronted Archie?

  If the man hadn’t noticed anything, that meant Archie could just wait it out in the server room. Until when, though? After Jamin and Levi locked up? How long would that be? And he couldn’t recall the front door’s locking mechanism.

  Double shit!

  He stared at the metal door handle, almost daring himself to open it. But he couldn’t be stupid about it.

  “Looking for something?”

  Archie flipped around. It was Jamin, standing in the doorway, the blinking lights illuminating a grin so wide and mangled with jagged teeth, he didn’t look human. More like a vampire.

  “I…uh,” was all Archie could think of saying, his feet seemingly stuck in quicksand.

  “I believe this is your phone?” Jamin dangled the phone between his thumb and forefinger.

  “I guess it fell out of my pocket. Ha-ha.” Geez, he sounded like an idiot…again.

  Jamin’s grin folded up, hiding his fangs, but his scowl could have melted flesh.

  Archie took a hard swallow, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts, but none clear enough to make any sense. Should he attack this old guy? Jamin had no weapon…at least none that Archie could see. Or should he just run like hell? But if the door was armed with an alarm system, the Mounties might jump him within a minute of making it outside.

  Jamin slowly raised his other hand to his ear. He had a phone of his own.

  “I’ve got him cornered,” Jamin said into his cell phone.

  “The hell you do. Look!” Archie pointed over Jamin’s shoulder. The old guy actually took the bait and turned to look behind him. That was when Archie twisted the handle and jammed his body into the door.

  His first step was all air, and he tumbled to the ground, a good two feet lower than what he’d anticipated. Didn’t matter now. He jumped to his feet and started running, but quickly saw…nothing. Limbs reached out and snagged his coat, slapped his face. He saw nothing but the star-lit sky above him as he ran through the clust
er of trees and brush. A limb shot up his nose, and he smacked it away. Gross!

  Then it hit him. He was running away from the compound, in the opposite direction of the shed, Norm and Donny, and the truck. Did he expect to run into the hilly wilderness and then somehow use his navigational skills to figure out a way to find civilization and then call Vandiver and Alex?

  He stopped for a moment.

  But it was only a moment.

  Whistles blared and flashlights splashed against the tree trunks and branches. He bolted out of his stance, back into a dead run in no time. There was no way these farmer boys could keep up with him. He’d lose them in the forest, and then he could figure out a way to live until daylight. That moment of optimism vanished a second later when another wave of whistles and flashlights came at him from two o’clock.

  “Crap!” he muttered, quickly cutting left.

  And then the ground disappeared. He fell down a steep hill, his body falling over itself two, three, four times. Would it ever stop? A tree took a chunk out of his shoulder during one of the somersaults, but it hardly slowed his spiraling fall. Along the way, dirt and sticks found their way into every crevice in his body. It didn’t end until he rammed into something hard at the bottom of the hill.

  “Fuck,” he moaned, turning over and feeling around him. He felt a tarp under his fingertips, and he tugged to pull himself up. He felt a lump forming on his head as he got to his knees and reached out a hand as voices grew louder and a flurry of flashlights found him. Part of the tarp had been pulled off a crate. Sitting next to it was a large canister.

  “Stop right there,” a man ordered him from behind.

  But Archie’s eyes focused on the bold words etched on the canister.

  Danger: Sarin Gas

  And then it became all too clear for Archie. He knew what was about to go down at Camp Israel.

  17

  I had my cell phone set to speaker as it rested in the palm of my hand. Leaning closer to the laptop screen, I had to adjust myself, yet again, on the tiny stool.