by Rachel Grant
Chapter Thirty-Four
Tiger. Isabel shivered, realizing she must’ve told Nicole the “safeword” during her interrogation. What else had Nicole asked? What else had she revealed?
“Put your gun on the floor and kick it to me.”
Very slowly, Alec crouched and set the gun down. He raised his hands in surrender as he rose then tapped the pistol with his foot, sending it sliding across the wood floor, not in Nicole’s direction but to the center of the room. Out of his reach, but out of hers too. If she wanted it, she’d have to take the gun off Isabel and her eyes off Alec. He’d neatly taken the weapon out of play.
He laced his fingers and tucked his raised arms behind his head. “Put the gun down, Nic. You won’t see a dime if you shoot her. You pull that trigger and I’ll break your neck faster than I broke Godfrey’s.”
“But Alec, the only thing that’s keeping you from breaking my neck right now is the fact that I have the gun on Isabel. I know how lethal you are, even unarmed and barely conscious.” She nodded toward the open door. Isabel had caught a glimpse of Keith, but he’d disappeared once Alec stepped inside. “Let’s make a deal. Send Hatcher back to the compound, and we can negotiate.” She glanced at her watch. “Ten minutes until the banks release the money and you can make the transfer. It would be much cozier if it’s just the three of us when the money comes through.”
“Three? What about Westover?”
She flashed another grin but said nothing.
A scuffle outside answered Alec’s question. A moment later, Westover was shoved toward the open door, blood pouring from his temple. Keith pushed him into the room. “You lose, Nicole. We’ve got your partner.”
The pressure at the back of Isabel’s neck disappeared. Before she could draw in a breath of relief at no longer having a gun to her head, Nicole pointed the weapon at her partner’s chest and squeezed the trigger.
Isabel lurched forward from the couch as two rapid shots reverberated through the cabin. She dove for Alec’s gun and sent it sliding back in his direction.
Westover pitched backward into Keith. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the pistol glide past the easy chair, out of Nicole’s line of sight.
Both men dropped backward through the front door.
“That makes the twenty-seven million all mine,” Nicole said.
Isabel rolled, covering the spot where the gun had been, hoping to hell Nicole wouldn’t realize it was gone.
Had Keith been shot too?
She faced the woman she’d considered a friend. Nicole’s gun was no longer aimed at her. Now it was pointed at Alec.
“You can’t shoot me, Nic. Not if you want the money. I’m not stupid. I set it up so the transfer won’t go through until I enter my authorization code.”
“You’ll provide the code.” Nicole’s voice switched to her command tone. “Isabel, come here.”
Isabel twitched, ready to comply. Obeying the woman with the gun seemed like the smart thing. But her racing, panicked brain offered one coherent thought. If Nicole shot Isabel, Alec wouldn’t pay her. If Nicole shot Alec, Alec wouldn’t pay her. Nicole might have the gun, but she didn’t have the power. She wanted the money badly enough to have tortured and played games for the last several days. She wouldn’t jeopardize that now, not mere minutes before the transfer. Until the money went through, Alec and Isabel had the upper hand. It just didn’t look like they did. Obeying Nicole wasn’t the smart thing. It wasn’t even the right thing.
The gag in her mouth prevented her from speaking, so she raised her bound hands and gave Nicole the middle finger.
Nicole frowned. With Isabel and Alec on opposite sides of the room, she couldn’t cover them both. From the look on her face, it was clear she’d realized this too. She’d been so eager to take out her partner, to up her share of the ransom, she hadn’t guessed she could lose the power position so completely.
After all, she was still the only person in the room with a gun.
Isabel flicked her gaze to the floor. From her position, she could see the gun mere inches from Alec’s feet. Her gaze shifted to Alec’s and he gave her the slightest of nods. He knew.
She needed to get Nicole’s attention so he could get the weapon. Her mind raced. Gagged, how could she get Nicole talking again?
“So was this all about the money, Nic?” Alec asked.
She shrugged. “Pretty much. I figure I reached my ceiling. There was no more up for me. So I’ll take the money and bow out.”
“Do you want to know why I promoted you to director?”
“I’ll bite. Sure.”
“They say those who can’t do, teach. So I made you a teacher, because sure as hell you sucked as an operative. You don’t like to get your hands dirty.” He glanced over his shoulder at Westover’s feet, which protruded through the doorway.
Isabel’s heart squeezed with fear for Keith. The operative hadn’t made a sound after he disappeared out the door. “I’m betting shooting your partner was the first time you’ve done any of the dirty work during this whole operation. You let Westover and Godfrey be the grunts while you waited for the ship to come in.”
“That just proves I’m an excellent manager. But now I’m done. I like nice things and warm places. Twenty-seven million should get me that.”
Isabel couldn’t join the conversation, so she did the only thing she could think of and rolled again, furthering the distance between her and Alec. With her gaze on Isabel, Nicole wouldn’t be able to see him in her peripheral vision.
Nicole shifted the gun from Alec to Isabel. “Where do you think you’re going?”
She tried to keep the satisfaction from her face. She made a noise against the gag, as if her bound hands hurt, and rolled again. Nicole wouldn’t shoot. Not before the money transfer.
At least she hoped to hell not.
“Stop moving, Isabel.”
“Fugh ooo,” she said, the closest approximation she could do to telling the bitch off.
Isabel met Alec’s gaze. He mouthed the words I love you, then dropped for the gun.
Nicole jolted to her feet and spun at the noise, bringing the gun around with her.
Still on the floor, he fired, two rapid shots. Nicole’s head snapped backward, then she dropped. Her head flopped to the side as she landed, facing Isabel.
Alec had hit her clean between the eyes.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Isabel waited by the front door of the compound. Anxiety had her rocking back and forth on her heels. Alec and Lee had gone to pick up Keith’s girlfriend, Trina, and Lee’s fiancée, Erica, from the Fairbanks airport. They were due back any minute. In the meantime, officials from the CIA, DIA, and FBI had gathered in the main conference room, hours early for the scheduled meeting.
Keith was going to be fine. The second bullet had passed through Westover and hit Keith in the ribs. He’d been lucky it had been slowed by the journey through Westover. It had punctured his skin and cracked ribs, but it hadn’t reached any vital organs. He’d been playing possum outside the door, plotting his assault on Nicole, when Alec fired the shot that killed her.
He’d wanted to go to the airport, but Alec and Trina both had insisted he rest at the compound.
Footsteps sounded behind her. “They here yet?”
She turned to see Keith. “Not yet.” He was pale and very likely working hard to hide his pain. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”
“So are you.”
“I wasn’t shot.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t—” He cut himself off, not saying the word.
She let out a sharp, surprised laugh. “Tortured?” she said for him.
His eyes widened. “Sorry. That was out of line.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s okay. I don’t want to make it a taboo subject. If I hide from what happened, it will only give it more power over me. I don’t remember most of it, and I’m honestly grateful for that. But if the memories do come back, I don’t want to fear them. I
survived. That’s what matters.”
He held her gaze. “You did. And you helped take Nicole down.”
She nodded. Her only regret about how it ended was what it meant for Alec’s political future. The events of the last several days hadn’t yet been revealed to the press, and it was hard to imagine he’d get votes when the truth came out. Voters would wonder how sound his mind was after facing torture and how involved he was in the experimentation. There would always be questions about how much he’d known.
On the flip side, with his shot at the senate over, they could date without fear she’d destroy him politically. That card had already been played.
After the debriefing with the FBI, CIA, and DIA tonight, the plan was for Alec to fly home to Maryland tomorrow. He might even withdraw his candidacy. To say that a media circus awaited him when he arrived in his home state was putting it mildly.
“How long have you and Trina been together?” she asked to take her mind off the sorry state of Alec’s political future and how depressed the idea of his leaving made her.
“Believe it or not, only a month,” Keith said.
“A month?” she asked. “And you’re living together?”
A corner of Keith’s mouth kicked up. “Well, my town house sort of blew up, so I needed a place to stay.” Then he shrugged. “But yeah, it’s been fast. Trina is the best thing that ever happened to me.” The look in his eye reminded her of how Brad had looked at Jenna. She’d been so relieved to learn Brad was one of the good guys and that he’d helped with the search for her.
A car cleared the main gate and circled the drive. She couldn’t help but grin like a smitten schoolgirl. Alec is back.
They’d deal with the DIA, CIA, and FBI. And later, they’d return to his quarters and he’d hold her tight. She needed her anchor as she drifted through these unfamiliar waters.
The foursome entered the building, Alec and Lee carrying suitcases for the women. Isabel identified Erica as the dark-haired woman who held Lee’s hand, and Trina as the tiny spitfire who bolted through the door but stopped short of launching herself at Keith.
Keith grinned broadly and turned to present his right flank. “This is the side you can hug.” Then he scooped her against him with his right arm, lifting her from the floor.
She squealed. “Keith! Put me down! You’re going to hurt—”
He planted his mouth on hers, and her complaints stopped.
Isabel turned away from the couple and met Alec’s gaze. He smiled and pulled her to his side. He kissed her softly, then led her over to Erica and Lee.
“Isabel Dawson, I’d like you to meet Erica Kesling.”
Isabel reached out a hand to the archaeologist who’d made major headlines a few years ago. The press had treated Erica unfairly, and now Isabel suppressed a grimace at the realization they had that in common too.
Erica took her hand, then she cocked her head and said, “Wait a minute. Oregon. Seven or eight years ago. Pipeline survey for a CRM company based out of California.”
Isabel searched her memory. Eight years ago, she’d dig-bummed all along the West Coast. She didn’t have a good memory for faces, but she did remember projects. “Was that the project with an Oregon Trail site on top of a prehistoric lithic scatter?”
Erica nodded. “Yep. The pipeline company had been caught trying to smooth out the wagon ruts so they could claim the historic site was gone and they could build a road. When the state discovered the damage, not only did they have to preserve the remainder of the ruts, but also they had to pay a buttload in fines and for our survey. I hear they went back and did a data recovery on the lithic scatter.”
“I was in grad school by then and missed it,” Isabel said.
“Me too.”
Suddenly, it clicked into place. Isabel had hung back, as was her way, even in the field, not engaging with the other field techs, but the last night of the project, she’d gone out for drinks with the crew and had discussed her grad school plans with another woman who’d been about to embark on underwater archaeology graduate school in Hawaii. She grinned at Erica. “I’m surprised I didn’t recognize your name before now.”
The woman shrugged. “It was a short project with a large crew. I didn’t remember you until I saw your hair.”
Isabel touched her curls, which were wilder than usual because she still didn’t have a ponytail holder. “Yeah. That’s usually the way it goes.”
Erica turned to Trina. “Yo. Treen. Come up for air and meet Isabel. I’m pretty sure Keith is going to live.”
Trina settled against Keith’s good side and extended a hand. “Hi. Just to be clear, I’m not an archaeologist, and I don’t like dirt. I like books and oral histories and electricity and plumbing. I’m not entirely sure why Mara and Erica are friends with me, except I make excellent chocolate martinis.”
Isabel laughed, a little relieved the woman wasn’t ready to lynch her for causing her boyfriend to get shot.
“Let’s head inside to the living quarters.” Alec gave both Keith and Isabel a stern stare. “You both were supposed to be resting up for the meeting.”
“The officials are already here,” Isabel said. “They’re waiting in the main conference room.”
He frowned and turned to the others. “Why don’t you guys take Trina and Erica to your quarters, then join the meeting?”
They nodded, and everyone entered the labyrinth. Isabel gripped Alec’s hand as they walked straight to the conference room.
The government officials included two men from the DIA, one from the CIA, FBI Agents Upton and Crews, and their boss, the Special Agent in Charge from the Anchorage office. Everyone who’d been involved in yesterday’s search was also present, and Doc Larson had returned to the compound because he’d treated Chase Johnston—who was recovering with a good prognosis in Fairbanks—and was monitoring both Isabel’s and Keith’s recuperations.
The rest of Alec’s employees—those who’d been shipped off when the compound closed—were still in Fairbanks. Isabel dropped into a seat next to Brad and nodded to Ethan, who sat across from her. Sean and Josh flanked the DIA officials. Doc Larson was chatting up Matt Upton.
When Lee and Keith arrived, one of the Defense Intelligence Agency officials stood. “Is this everyone?” he asked.
“Yes,” Alec said.
The man crossed to the double doors and pulled them shut. “Good. As you all know, we’ve been conferring with our colleagues”—he nodded to the guy from the CIA and the FBI SAC—“about the best way to handle the situation and the release of data about what happened here. It pains me and the entire DIA that our former officer, Paul Westover, appears to have been using what he learned when he was affiliated with us to conduct and test research into interrogation techniques and experimental weapons.”
The man paced the length of the room. “After reviewing the data found in the hidden laboratory and having examined the cave, we have determined that the best course of action is to classify the events of the last week at the highest top secret security level.”
Isabel stiffened, not quite sure what that meant.
“In other words, none of this ever happened. All the data will be destroyed. The remains in the cave have been removed. None of you are to reveal anything you know about Markwell, Godfrey, and Westover’s success in weaponizing infrasound waves. Put simply, it’s too dangerous. There are several rogue states that would quite literally kill to get their hands on this technology. We at the DIA and my counterparts at the CIA will make certain that never happens, while it’s the FBI’s job to put out a plausible story to satisfy the people’s need for justice.”
“What’s the story?” Alec asked, his jaw stiff with anger. The DIA was, after all, talking about a cover-up. They were just putting a nicer spin on it.
The DIA official sat down and nodded to the Anchorage SAC, who stood and addressed the room. “It’s simple, really, Mr. Ravissant. Paul Westover and Nicole Markwell abducted you with the intention of holding y
ou for ransom. When Ms. Dawson was observed in the area, they panicked and left you. You were unconscious the entire time, which is why you have no memory of your abduction. Several days later, Markwell and Westover seized another opportunity and abducted Ms. Dawson, again for ransom. You and your employees, along with FBI Agent Upton, tracked down the kidnappers and rescued Ms. Dawson. In the ensuing fight, both Westover and Markwell were killed.”
Alec shook his head. “It won’t work. While this story is close to the truth, it doesn’t explain Vincent Dawson’s death. You can’t admit he was killed by Westover, Godfrey, and Markwell. There’s no justice for Vin. No vindication for Isabel.”
Isabel met Alec’s gaze as emotions flooded her. “But Alec, this scenario is perfect. With this story, you can still run for the senate. You could still win. You won’t have to admit to killing Godfrey. No one will speculate about what being tortured did to you. No one will wonder if you were involved in the infrasound experimentation.” She paused. “This story will save your campaign.”
“I won’t lie to save my candidacy.”
“You’ll be lying for national security,” the CIA official said.
That gave Alec pause, and Isabel pounced. “If we come forward with the truth, not only will you lose, but the Russians will know Westover was successful. They’ll attempt their own experiments with infrasound. Hell, every rogue state will be after the technology Westover developed.”
“I get that,” Alec said. “But no one will ever know Vin was murdered. We need a better story.”
She’d suspected she was in love with Alec, but that was the moment she was certain. “The people who matter know. We got justice for Vin. His murderers are dead and can’t hurt anyone ever again. I’m satisfied.”
It wasn’t lost on Isabel that she’d just consented to the cover-up of her brother’s murder.
All that was left was hashing out the details of the story, ensuring no one would slip. It was agreed that Alec would make an official statement upon his return to Maryland, adding that the ordeal was personal and he wouldn’t take further questions on the subject, and then resume campaigning. The FBI statement would quickly follow, assuring everyone that they were conducting a full investigation to be certain no other conspirators remained. And then they’d hope that the media would tire of the story as no more information was revealed.