by Eric Bernt
He moved to the camera and disconnected it, then turned to the laptop on the table next to it, which seemed to show another location. It appeared to be an empty room. He returned to Skylar and used his newly acquired combat knife to cut through her restraints. She clung to him like a terrified child.
She sobbed uncontrollably as she pleaded, “Butler, tell me it’s you!”
He took her hands and placed them on the sides of his face so that she could feel him nod. “It’s me.”
She breathed through her nose. “I’ve never been so glad to smell that lousy cologne you wear.” Unable to hear herself, she spoke loudly. She then pointed blindly toward the laptop screen on the table. “Is Eddie okay? Can he hear me?”
Butler turned toward the laptop. All he could see on the screen was a vacant room. “Eddie, you there?” There was no response. The detective knew it would be several more minutes before Skylar could hear him, so he took her finger and drew large letters on his own chest: N-O-T T-H-E-R-E.
Skylar reacted with alarm. “Not there? What do you mean, not there?!”
CHAPTER 15
AMERICAN HERITAGE FOUNDATION
ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA
June 1, 3:13 p.m.
Bob Stenson clasped his hands in front of him, with his elbows on his desk, and watched the proceedings. The moment Eddie began to play the echoes from inside his room, verifying the device’s operational status, Stenson felt validated. Taking the gloves off was not a decision he’d made lightly. After all, he wasn’t sadistic. He might employ contractors every now and then who were, but he himself was not. Vengeful, perhaps on occasion, but never without a genuine measure of control. Make no mistake, he had been terribly embarrassed after being outmaneuvered by a special-needs civilian who resided in an assisted-living facility, but that was not his primary motivation in ordering the kidnapping of Dr. Skylar Drummond. It was expediency. The action was merely a means to an end. And now that the objective had been achieved, Stenson sought to close the matter as quickly as possible. He wanted to move on to the bigger fish he intended to fry, and there were a lot of them.
First on the list was the biggest fish in the land.
He dialed the new head of Harmony House security, Yancy Packard. “Show’s over. Bring Parks and the device here.”
“Copy that.” Packard was standing down the hall from Eddie’s room as he hung up the phone. He glanced at a subordinate, C. J. Clementine, whom he had hired only days earlier. Clementine was fifteen years younger, five inches taller, and fifty pounds heavier, with considerably less body fat.
Packard had been his CO during his time in Delta Force, and Clementine jumped at the chance to continue reporting to him in the civilian world. The two men walked briskly down the hallway to Eddie’s room, practically marching in step. Old habits, and all that. As Packard unlocked the patient’s room, using a key that only he possessed, they heard the sound of gunfire from the second computer. If he didn’t know better, he might have thought Eddie was watching a true-crime TV show.
Eddie paced around the room, pointing to the screen with alarm as they entered. Since he was no longer sitting directly in front of the laptop or its camera, he could not be seen by anyone watching. “Someone just shot fake Einstein!” Eddie exclaimed. “I think he’s dead! I think he’s dead!” Skylar remained on the screen, bound and gagged, but her captor was no longer visible.
“Pack up your things. We’re leaving.” Packard’s voice was firm and left no room for equivocation.
Eddie stood his ground. “I am not going anywhere until Dr. Drummond is released. Fake Einstein promised me he would let her go, and a promise is a promise. Although I don’t know if someone can be expected to keep a promise if he is now dead. My mother died giving birth to me, so she could not raise me. I do not think that was her fault. Is fake Einstein dead?”
Turning back to the second laptop, Eddie now recognized Butler, whose face was visible on-screen momentarily just before he disconnected the camera. “Detective McHenry, what are you doing there?”
Butler did not respond because he couldn’t hear Eddie, due to Skylar’s abductor having muted the volume on their end. Eddie turned to the two security guards who had entered his room. “That was Detective Butler McHenry. He got in trouble for helping me last week. I think he’s going to be in even more trouble now.”
Packard stepped right in front of Eddie and leaned down in his face. “Do I look like I care?”
Eddie stared at the man’s polished shoes. “I am not very good at reading other people’s expressions. Please tell me if you do care so I will know what your expression means the next time I see someone else make it.”
Packard had already exceeded his patience threshold. “You will go anywhere I goddamn tell you to.” He grabbed Eddie by the shoulders.
“Ow! Don’t touch me!” Eddie jumped out of his chair, flinching at the physical contact. He backed away from Packard until he was against the window. “No, I won’t go anywhere you goddamn tell me to.” His delivery was a robotic imitation of the security head’s voice. Accurate, but flat. And then for good measure, Eddie added, “I won’t! I won’t! I won’t! And you can’t make me!”
The head of security stared at him intensely. “No? Well, about that, you’re wrong.” He glanced at Clementine, who revealed a twelve-million-volt tactical stun baton. Packard asked, “Do you know what that is?”
“It looks like some type of baton.”
“That’s correct. Can you guess what kind?”
“A metal one.”
“Also correct. This particular type is called a stun baton.”
“Why is it called a stun baton?”
“My associate is about to show you.”
Clementine stepped forward and pressed the end of the baton to Eddie’s sternum. ZZZTT! The human body normally generates less than one hundred millivolts of electricity, which meant that Eddie’s nervous system was suddenly overwhelmed with over one hundred million times the amount of electrical energy it was used to managing. His brain couldn’t process the overload, and his muscles seized. He collapsed, convulsing involuntarily, just as he was supposed to.
Demonstrating his incredible strength, Clementine used only one hand to grab Eddie by the shirt and prevent him from hitting the floor. “Where do you want him?”
“Back of the van. We’re taking a road trip.”
Clementine put Eddie over his shoulder like a rag doll and carried him out of the room. Packard moved to the computer screen still transmitting his live image. He spoke to his superior. “Traffic permitting, we’ll be there by four o’clock.” He then closed both laptops and the echo box, taking all three devices with him.
CHAPTER 16
BOB STENSON’S OFFICE
AMERICAN HERITAGE FOUNDATION
June 1, 3:18 p.m.
Bob Stenson watched the action in split screen with rising concern. On the left side of the monitor, Eddie and his revolutionary device had been carried out of Harmony House by a member of their security staff. They had confirmed the echo box was in working order and was now on its way to him. At least part of his plan was proceeding as intended.
However, on the right side of the screen, things had gone awry. Dr. Skylar Drummond should have been similarly carried out of the temporary office they had set up in Philadelphia and on her way to him as well. However, a man Skylar knew by name had unexpectedly intervened. She had called him “Butler.” Stenson surmised this could only be Butler McHenry, the detective who had recently given her aid in New York. Observing her rescue, Stenson was surprised by the level of the man’s abilities, which far exceeded civilian police standards. He had clearly received training from another source, almost certainly military. The man was formidable. But the most troubling part, in Stenson’s mind, was that this Butler McHenry knew exactly where to find her.
Stenson had two questions he wanted answered immediately: Who was Butler working for, and where was he getting his intel?
The direct
or of the American Heritage Foundation recognized the footsteps of his heir apparent as soon as he heard them running down the hallway toward his office. “Slow down, Jason.”
Jason Greers slowed to a walk as he entered the office, carrying a small stack of papers. He handed the first document to Stenson. It was a printout of a screen grab from the video footage of Skylar’s rescue. The image gave a clear view of Butler the moment he first noticed the camera after killing their contractor. Butler had unintentionally looked directly into the lens, making him easy to identify.
“Facial recognition got a ninety-six-percent hit. His name is Butler McHenry. He’s—”
“I know who the detective is, Jason. Tell me what I don’t know. What’s his motive? Why would he risk his career for someone he only met last week?”
Greers handed him several more sheets of paper, allowing Stenson to read along as he continued, “I believe his background gives us a likely explanation. Before he was a cop, he was a Ranger.”
Stenson nodded. “That explains his skill set.”
“Note the black ops he was part of.”
Stenson read them, recognizing a majority of the missions. “Most of them were ours.”
“Seems like quite a coincidence, doesn’t it?”
The director stared at his protégé. “I don’t believe in coincidence. You know that.”
Greers attempted to recover. “It’s possible that he’s trying to get back at us.”
“Which means he knows about us, leading to the most important question we must answer: Where is he getting his information?”
The protégé stared at his mentor. His expression made it clear he thought the answer should be obvious.
Stenson knew the answer as well. He just didn’t want to accept it. Wishfully, he said, “She didn’t.” He quickly worked his computer, calling up the tracking device hidden in the undercarriage of Caitlin McCloskey’s Subaru. He glanced at Greers as a map appeared on one of his screens. “Every employee’s vehicle is tracked. Including mine.”
Greers shrugged as if to say, Of course it is. The map showed Caitlin’s Subaru in the lot outside the Kelman Nursing and Rehab Center.
“Get the mess in Philadelphia cleaned up. I’m going to visit an old friend.” Stenson exited abruptly.
CHAPTER 17
RITTENHOUSE SQUARE
PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA
June 1, 3:21 p.m.
Butler gripped Skylar’s arm as he helped her out of the office where she had been held hostage for the last two hours. Her eyes still couldn’t focus due to the effects of the flash bang. Her equilibrium also remained off. She walked like she was drunk. He maneuvered her around the unconscious female zip-tied in the middle of the lobby floor.
Skylar couldn’t identify the lump they skirted. “Is that a person?” She asked more loudly than was necessary because of the ringing in her ears.
“Yes.” He gave an exaggerated nod and kept her moving toward the front door.
She stared at the body. “The receptionist?”
“Yes. Lower your voice. You’re yelling.”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize I was,” she responded, still a bit too loudly. She continued in a more hushed tone. “Is she dead?”
“No.”
Skylar’s brain was still scrambled. It took her a moment to come up with a response. “That was decent of you.”
“It won’t matter. She’ll be dead before nightfall. The kind of people she works for don’t tolerate loose ends.”
“What?” She didn’t hear a word he said.
“Never mind.”
On the sidewalk, Butler kept his head down as he led Skylar in the direction of his Tahoe. She still couldn’t focus. Everything remained a blur. “My car. It’s in the other direction. At least, I think it is.”
“We’re not taking your car.”
She seemed confused but didn’t ask any questions. “Okay. I hope I don’t get any tickets.”
“Where’s your phone?”
She reached into her pocket and handed it to him. He smashed it against a lamppost, then tossed it in a trash can. “What did you do that for?”
“Easiest way to find someone is through their phone.” He took out his own phone, memorized the number of the most recent call, and disposed of it as well.
“We have to find Eddie.” She sounded both determined and desperate.
He held her tightly as she continued to stagger. “Any idea where they might have taken him?”
“If he’s not at Harmony House, I have no idea.”
“He’s not at Harmony House.” Butler glanced at several security cameras focused in their direction. “Keep your head down.”
She ducked as they rounded a corner. He put his cap on her head and pulled up his hood so that his face could only be seen directly from the front. “How do you know he’s not at Harmony House?”
“If I had gone through all this trouble for his box, I’d bring him and the device to the most secure location I had access to.”
“Where would that be?” Skylar asked.
“No idea. But I know someone who might. First I need to get a new phone.” He led her down the block and across the street to a small shop—Adolfo’s Electronics & Phone Repair. It was crammed full of a variety of technology and gadgets, everything from used televisions to computers to phones. Their signs claimed they could repair them all with “100 Percent Reliability or Your Money Back.”
The store sold only one type of burner phone, the Alcatel A206, so the choice was easy. No internet. No camera. But the battery had seventeen hours of standby time and five hours of talk time, so it was perfect—even if it was a flip phone that looked like it was from 2003. Butler also grabbed a charging cable and paid $34.95 in cash for the two items.
He powered up the device to discover the phone only came with a 20 percent charge. It would be enough for now. As soon as they left the store, he dialed the number he had memorized for the woman he knew only as Eleanor.
Caitlin heard an unfamiliar ring as she approached the Wells Fargo branch on Franconia Road in Alexandria. The sound was coming from her purse. She needed a moment to remember she’d gotten rid of her iPhone and had started using a burner. She took out the phone and did not recognize the number calling. There was only one other person who knew this number. It has to be Butler. “How’d it go?”
“I have Skylar, but they’ve taken Eddie.”
Caitlin paused outside the bank, now certain that she had recruited the right guy. “You sound like a man who has unfinished business.”
He paused in frustration. Not at her, but at himself. Because she was right. With surprising calm, he asked, “Where would they take him?”
“Was the box working?”
Butler asked Skylar the same question. He then replied to Eleanor, “That’s affirmative.”
“He and the device will be taken to a location outside Alexandria, Virginia. I’ll give you more details when you get closer. You must reach them before they get there. They will be traveling in a white package van.”
He responded with an understandable level of sarcasm. “Well, that’ll really narrow it down, won’t it?”
“They’ll be looking for your vehicle. Find another. I’ll be in touch with more details as soon as I have them.” Ending the call, Caitlin placed the phone back in her purse and entered the bank. She paused to look around, remembering the last time she was inside this building, several years ago. For as long as she could remember, her father had done his banking here. She had been made a cosigner on all his accounts when she’d started managing his money. Until today, however, she hadn’t known he had a safety-deposit box.
She presented her identification to a young male teller with a bow tie. He read the box number off the key: 1637. He went to the bank’s files to check the list of authorized users. There were two: Lawrence Walters and Caitlin Walters McCloskey. She signed a form and was buzzed through a security gate that permitted her access to the vault.
The teller led her to the box, one of the hundreds of the smallest boxes offered: two by five inches. Only enough room to store some papers and a small amount of cash. Like all the other boxes, it required two keys to open. The teller removed a key ring from his pocket and searched for the proper one. After a minute, he became flustered.
Caitlin studied him. “Is there a problem?”
Relieved, he finally found the key he was looking for. “No, no problem. I just couldn’t find it there for a minute.” He inserted the key into the left lock, turning it clockwise. He then inserted Caitlin’s key into the right lock and did the same. The small stainless-steel door opened. He pulled out the box, which was twenty-four inches deep, and carried it into a small, brightly lit room the size of a closet. “Take as much time as you need. When you’re finished, you may place your box back into the slot, or just leave it here and I’ll be happy to do it for you.”
He closed the door behind him, leaving Caitlin alone with her father’s secret safety-deposit box. She opened the box without hesitation but was surprised by what she found. Or rather, what she didn’t find. The box was empty except for a single scrap of paper. On one side was a handwritten phone number. On the other side were GPS coordinates, also handwritten. She plugged the longitude and latitude into her phone, which returned an address forty-four miles west of her current location, in Gilberts Corner, Virginia. It would take her about an hour to get there.
Caitlin returned to the Cutlass, dialing the handwritten number before starting the engine. After several rings, an unfamiliar male voice answered. “Hello, Caitlin.”
She was concerned at being identified. Am I being watched? Tracked? Bugged? She looked around the car nervously. “Who is this?”
“There’s no need for alarm. I’m an old friend of your father’s.” His voice was rugged and gravelly, a lot like Clint Eastwood sounded in Unforgiven, she thought.