Sanctuary Breached WITSEC Town Series Book 3

by Lisa Phillips

  She didn’t sound right at all. Sam glanced at John, who nodded. “We’ll come to you. We’re on our way. Just sit tight.”

  “He didn’t hurt me. He just took Remy.”

  John stiffened. “Stands to reason Ben had a plan to secure the compound and the missile.” The man did not look pleased.

  Sam nodded, his finger off the button on his radio. “Tommy already has one suitcase.”

  “And Daire is taking Remy to the other.”

  John got on the radio. His voice was a blur of sound as Sam faced the trail ahead. Down there was Tommy and a bad situation that needed fixing. So why did he want to cut right and race to the ranch? He still wanted justice for his teammates, but the sound of Beth’s voice, the fact she was that scared… Sam almost couldn’t stomach it. Tura was supposed to have taken care of her. Hal. Michael and Louis. Sonny. All those guys and Daire had still walked in, tranqued them all, and taken Remy?

  John shoved his arm and mouthed, Wake up.

  Beth spoke again. “He hauled her out of here, but I don’t think he meant to hurt her. Not if she gives him the suitcases.”

  Sam’s stomach tightened. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so. It’s quiet. I can’t see much on the screens. I didn’t even know this walkie-talkie was under that stack of papers until you guys called.”

  John smiled. “Then I’m glad I did.”

  “Do you want me to come to you?” Sam didn’t look at the sheriff. Whether it was because he’d rather be at the ranch instead of on Tommy’s trail, or because he hadn’t told her he was leaving her there, Sam wasn’t sure.

  “No.” She drew out the word, and then paused. “Michael is waking up. Wait…so is Hal. I’ll be okay. Though Tura might be out a while yet. That man shot him twice.”

  “You’re sure you’re okay?” He still didn’t look at John.

  “I love you.”

  Sam’s breath hitched in his chest. He swallowed. Inhaled, pushed it out. “How can you still say that after I locked you in there?”

  “I was mad. But you made sure I was protected so that you could go and do your job.” She paused. “Isn’t that what you always do?”

  Was it? He wasn’t so sure.

  “You guys will have to do this later.” John’s voice came from beside him and through his earpiece. “We have to go after Tommy.”

  Sam started walking.

  John’s boots crunched the dirt behind him once again. The bigger man was all about family, but the job had clearly been a huge part of his life. John had run undercover operations so the Marshals could catch dangerous fugitives trying to assimilate themselves into criminal society. Sam couldn’t imagine the things he’d seen.

  Sam’s wars had been fought on foreign soil, where the enemy was a nameless, faceless ideology that demanded its followers martyr themselves. Crime was, in the same stroke, wildly different and exactly the same. Pop’s voice rang in his head. Evil men doing evil things. But was that what Tommy was, evil? Weeks ago he’d have thought them the same. So what had changed in his former friend? Had Tommy held this betrayal below the surface all the years Sam had known him, until the time had been right to let it out?

  John spoke from behind him. “You did the right thing, leaving her at the ranch so you could finish this.” There was a second of silence. “You also did the wrong thing.”

  Sam glanced back. “Oh, yeah?”

  “We’re keeping the fact her mom’s alive from her. But still, you should try and keep secrets to a minimum.”

  Sam snorted.

  “Do you think she doesn’t know you have to do your job? It was pretty obvious from what she said.”

  “And you’re going to help me psychoanalyze it, is that it?”

  “Just shooting the breeze with you. Some friendly advice to help you understand your girl a little more.”

  “You and I met two weeks ago, while Beth and I have known each other more than ten years. I know her.”

  It was John’s turn to snort. “How much time have you spent together in those ten years? Six months, tops? More?”

  Six months might be too generous a guess. “People can live by each other every day and never crack the shell to the person underneath.”

  “Boy did I learn that.”

  Sam glanced at him.

  “Ex-wife.” John continued, “That’s why I know what I’m saying. I get things have been crunched, but you and your girl need a serious sit-down-and-talk-things-through. I think you’ll find she’s a whole lot more understanding of what makes up you than maybe you even are.”

  “A country boy. A SEAL. Not all that much.”

  “You know there’s more.” John sighed. “I’m not going to pretend to know what’s going on in your head, and I get you’ve gotta focus. But trust Beth. Trust the woman God gave you to be the person you need her to be. It’s not gonna be perfect, you already know that. But eventually the worst of this will be behind you. Then it’ll be on to new seasons. New ventures.”

  “You sound like a brochure for happily married life.”

  John grinned. “Why not? It’s not out of reach. For you more than for people still trying to find the right one, or worried the one they have now isn’t right. You found her.” John clapped him on the shoulder. “There’s a reason why.”

  Their radios both crackled. John had his on the side of his belt, whereas Sam’s came through the earpiece connected to the radio on the back of his belt.

  It was Bolton. “Brother, you are not gonna believe this.”

  “What is it?” John said, as they jogged across the park on the north side of town.

  “An open suitcase on the back of…something. Sounds like a radio controlled car, maybe two. I can’t see under it. It’s driving down Main Street. On its own.” Bolton blew out a breath. “The display is lit—” His voice cut off.

  “The missile.” Sam picked up his already punishing pace.

  Bolton came back on. “If it blows on Main Street, everyone under the Meeting House will be—”

  “This is Senior Chief Locan.”

  John reached the front side of the bakery first. He stopped and peered around the corner then glanced at Sam. “It’s too small and too far away.”

  Sam had frozen when his former friend had spoken.

  The radio crackled in his ear. “There are some in this town willing to sacrifice the lives of others for their own safety. There are some who hide when they should surface, who cower instead of owning up to what they have done. But no more.”

  Sam glanced around, trying to figure out where Tommy would go to hide…and watch a missile take out the town. Nowhere near here, that was for sure. Sam would high-tail it out of town if it was him. Or go after the other suitcase to secure it before leaving.

  “I know you can hear me. You will hand over Doctor Remembrance Wilder immediately, or the missile I have placed on Main Street will detonate in exactly one hour. You will all be buried alive.”

  “John?” It was Matthias.

  John held down the button on his walkie-talkie. “We heard it. Sit tight. Let everyone know you’ll all be fine.”

  How had Tommy gotten on their frequency? Sam strode around to the back of the bakery. Tommy had to have had a line of sight to steer the thing down the street. But without Bolton and his men on the Meeting House roof seeing him.

  Tommy’s laughter resounded through the radios. “Sure, you’ll be fine. Then you’ll be dead.”

  **

  The walls of the cave were rough, one resident’s attempt to chip his way through the mountain to freedom. Or to relieve boredom…or find gold. Who knew? All Remy understood was the twisting tunnels went deep into the mountain. A great place to hide a deadly bio-agent.

  They were half a mile south-west of the ranch, halfway up the mountain, where the suitcase should have lain undisturbed forever. And now she was going in there to get it. Her father was dead, but the syndicate seemed determined to bring his vision to pass. How was she going to sto
p it if everyone knew where she’d hidden the weapon, and Remy couldn’t destroy it? Who was this “Daire” going to give it to? He could be working for the syndicate, or willing to sell it to someone far worse.

  Daire nudged her forward. “Keep moving.”

  He was in a big hurry. He’d dragged her from one end of town to the other fast enough her leg muscles screamed. She was built for intellectual pursuits, not a high level of physical exertion. Remy coughed. Her lungs still burned. If she wasn’t a doctor, she’d worry she might have asthma.

  “How far in is it?” There was an edge to his tone.

  Remy glanced back. His body was stiff, and he held himself taut. Was he scared of the dark or of this enclosed space?

  “It’s a ways.” She bit her lip. “Sorry. You could…wait outside.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I can get the suitcase and come back out.” She resisted the urge to grin. “You don’t have to go all the way to the spot where I buried it. It’s still thirty-six steps down.”

  Silence. The mountain was still. The tunnel walls echoed her breathing until she thought she might go deaf with it.

  “Let’s just get this over with.”

  Remy spun around and started walking. If he was so fired up to face whatever made him apprehensive to go in there, well that was fine with her. Each step, she counted. Daire had a flashlight pointed over her shoulder, so the way was illuminated. What was happening in town? If he had a radio, it wasn’t tuned to any particular frequency or even switched on. It was all that worked now that the emergency protocols were in place—a regular AM/FM radio. Her world had been reduced to archaic technology utilized by analogue radio stations, CB radio fanatics, and truck drivers.

  The tunnel angled left.

  The broken sides of a crate were stacked against the wall along with a dusty old tarp. Remy crouched. Was she really going to uncover it now?

  “This is it?”

  She nodded, not looking up from the cover which concealed the suitcase. Daire grabbed the corner of the tarp and yanked it off. Dust and grime flew everywhere. A cloud of gritty air wafted up to stick in her throat. Remy stepped up and back, covered her mouth, and tried to cough out whatever was stuck in there. She bent double, hacking.

  A heavy hand hit her back in quick succession. Good grief, was he trying to kill her down here? She shoved him away and sucked in as much air as possible before coughing it out. It felt like wood chips clawing at her throat. Remy collapsed against the dirt wall, unable to do more than gasp.

  Daire lifted a crate, and she saw the silver suitcase she’d stolen from the facility. Her father’s life’s work contained in six small vials that represented the pinnacle of her professional accomplishments.

  Death. Pure and simple.

  It wasn’t lost on her, as much as everyone seemed to think so. It was deadly. She was deadly. But it was also science. The wonder of achievement, the search, and the creation. There was a heady comprehension of what mankind could accomplish wrapped up in that suitcase. Mankind’s ability to create. And to destroy itself.

  Daire laid the suitcase flat and clicked the locks. It didn’t open. “Is there some kind of code or combination?”

  Remy didn’t answer him.

  “You want me to leave with this when we’re not even sure the compound is in here?”

  Remy croaked out, “Maybe it’s the weapon.”

  He didn’t even flinch. “It isn’t. This is the compound.” One eyebrow rose. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  Remy looked aside. “Does it matter? Either way it’s still theft.”

  “Not if I steal you, too.”

  The man was crazy. She wouldn’t really be in possession of it if he abducted her and took the suitcase at the same time. This was not what she’d signed up for when she decided to defy her father. Things were supposed to be good when you were being noble. Wasn’t that the point?

  It seemed like criminals lived the happy life they wanted, while the good people in the world got stepped on and brushed aside. She had judged the world to be out of balance, topsy-turvy like that playground ride where one end was up and the other down, constantly switching.

  “How about I take that off your hands?” An older woman with a frumpy frame stepped into the tunnel. The gun in her hand reflected in Daire’s flashlight. She wore a turquoise house dress and white sneakers that looked brand new. Her hair was kinked in a tight perm that stuck up on one side, like she’d woken shortly before. Seriously?

  “Maude, go away.” Remy wasn’t going to let her bad day get any worse. She coughed. “This has nothing to do with you.”

  Daire didn’t look at her, but she did see the corner of his mouth curl up. Yeah, she was a regular comedienne. He kept his gaze on Maude. “That gun won’t solve anything.”

  “It’ll get me what I want.”

  “The suitcase?” Daire made a “pfft” sound. “I don’t think so, lady.” He glanced down to Maude’s toes and back up; then he shifted his stance so it bled arrogance. “You’re not exactly the super-spy in this room, if you know what I mean.”

  “Perhaps not.” She lifted her hairy chin. “But I am the one with the gun.”

  Remy wanted to scream. Daire needed to do something. He’d gotten them both into this, and he could get them out. She didn’t know one thing about guns. She’d never even touched one her whole life. As far as she could tell right now, Maude held all the cards.

  She’d never liked that woman. No wonder Isaac was miserable all the time.

  “Leave. This is your final chance.”

  Maude snorted. “I will shoot you. Then that suitcase is mine.”

  “And what are you going to do with it?” Remy flung her hands up, her voice still scratchy. Would she ever get that wood-chip feeling out of her throat? “How will you even get out of town?”

  “No need for you to worry.”

  “Because the syndicate will set you up?” Remy shook her head. “You don’t think Sam’s friend will kill you and take the suitcase? It’s not like you can hike out of here.”

  “She’s got a point.”

  Maude bristled. “Give me the suitcase now. Toss it over here, and I won’t kill you and leave you here for the rats and the bugs to find.”

  Daire barely moved. “No.”

  Maude shifted to point the gun higher…at his face.

  Behind her, footsteps pounded down the tunnel. Before Maude could turn, Shadrach slammed into her from behind. The gun fired. The flash blinded and the pop deafened in the small space. Remy slapped her hands over her ears, and Maude went sprawling as Shadrach wrestled the gun from her.

  Daire fell to the ground, his gun still in his hand.

  Remy crawled toward him as blood spread out on his chest. “Oh, no.” She whipped off her sweater and balled it up to press high on the front of his shirt, her arms locked. “Shadrach!”

  He looked up. His eyes widened. Maude struggled against his grasp. Shadrach lifted her head and slammed it on the ground.

  Remy winced and looked away as Shadrach scrambled across the ground to her. “He’s bleeding out. He needs a doctor.”

  “That’s you.”

  “I can’t help him!”

  Daire groaned. His hand shifted, going to his pants pocket. “Radio.”

  Shadrach pulled out a small radio.

  “Channel one. You say, ‘Chocolate pudding.’”

  “What?” He must be delusional. Did he hit his head? She felt around his scalp for a wound.

  Daire grunted. “Remy, go.”

  “What? No. I’m not going to leave you here.”

  “Take the suitcase. Go with Shadrach.”

  “You’re just giving up?”

  “No. You’re going to call my ride.” His chest hitched, he coughed, and then winced.

  “Don’t move.”

  His lips twitched. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

  “Why weren’t you wearing a vest? Body armor?” The man was crazy. He was going to d
ie here in this cave he hadn’t wanted to enter in the first place, all because she’d buried the suitcase in here.

  Daire put his hand on hers. “You don’t like me, remember?”

  Remy swallowed against the lump in her throat.

  “Now go. Quicker you get on that radio, the quicker my ride will be here.” His accent was fully British now.

  Remy didn’t move. “You’ll be dead before anyone comes.”

  “Some kind of bedside manner you got, Doc.”

  Shadrach grabbed her elbow. Remy resisted, but Shadrach hauled her up. She ran to the suitcase and gasped it. She couldn’t think through the ramifications, or the fact she was undoing everything she’d done since she arrived here.

  Shadrach said, “Let’s get you, and that thing, to safety. Then we can get help for Daire.”

  The big man on the ground tried to sit up. Remy moved to help him, but Shad pulled her away. He had the radio, and they ran through the tunnels to the exit. Fresh air.

  Shadrach turned Daire’s radio on. “Chocolate pudding.”

  The radio crackled. “Who are you?”

  Shadrach lifted it to his lips again. “Chocolate pudding.”

  Then he stowed it on his belt and took her hand. The radio crackled again.

  “Who was that?” It was a different voice this time. “Your time is running out. Give me Doctor Wilder and the suitcase or I blow Main Street sky high. You have forty-nine minutes.”

  Chapter 23

  Ben strode from the motel room, crossed the parking lot, and got in the car. Grant started the engine as his brother leaned his head on the headrest and shut his eyes. It was the only indication he’d ever had that Ben felt anything at all about his job.

  Pride, maybe. Bravado. Or even disgust. Those things he’d have understood. Weariness wasn’t what he’d thought it would be.

  Ben’s fingers were spread on the legs of his black Dockers. His knuckles were red, split in places. There was also a red mark across Ben’s jaw.

  They’d been going for hours now, non-stop. They couldn’t contact John, and Daire wasn’t going to call in unless he was finished. With nothing else to do but wait and see what happened in Sanctuary, they’d turned their attention to running down the key players in the syndicate. If they could uncover how far this conspiracy spread, they’d have a chance at neutralizing it.