Helius Legacy

by S Alexander O'keefe

  “We … we’re heading away from Austin, along the lake. The next town of any size is Clayton. It’s about nine miles ahead. There may be side roads, but most of those on the right will dead-end at the lake. The roads on the left will head off into the foothills, but … some of them stop in dead-ends as well. We … we have to stay on this road for a while before we can get to another road that really goes anywhere.”

  Caine looked in the mirror again and then glanced over at the woman beside him in the darkened cab. She was looking over at him. For a second he caught her eyes, which were large and attractive, and then he turned back to the road ahead.

  “Are you okay?”

  Andrea just nodded and continued to look at him for a minute. This was the first time that she’d taken the time to look closely at his face, which was just visible in the dim glow of light from the instrument panel. It was more distinguished than handsome, if on the hard side, with a strong, chiseled jaw, gray eyes, straight nose, and a deep tan. Caine belatedly realized he was being scrutinized, and looked over at her.

  “So what’s the verdict?” Caine asked with a smile.

  Andrea was surprised by his smile and a little embarrassed, but she responded with one of her own. “You’ll do.”

  Caine glanced in the mirror again and his smile disappeared. She noticed the change and looked in the sideview mirror. She saw a pair of headlights in the distance. As she watched the lights, it was obvious the other car was gaining on them. When she turned back to Caine, he just nodded.

  “Yeah, it’s them, and they’re really moving.”

  Andrea glanced over at the speedometer on the truck. It was touching ninety-five miles per hour, which shocked her. Then she noticed the roar of the engine and was surprised that she had hadn’t realized how loud it was before. Caine looked in the mirror again and then looked over at her.

  “They’re gaining on us. I can’t see the car, but it’s a fair bet that whatever they’re driving is a lot faster than this truck, so we can’t outrun them.”

  Andrea looked over at him and waited. When he didn’t say anything, she said, “So what are—”

  “We have other options” Caine said, without taking his eyes off the road.

  She looked at his face for a second, assuming that he was just putting up a front, but his demeanor didn’t change. What options?

  Without taking his eyes off the road, Caine said, “Can you check the map? It’s under the seat beneath you. I need to know what the road looks like ahead. What I’m looking for is a sharp curve, or something like it.”

  Andrea pulled out the map and started to reach for the overhead light over the console, but reconsidered after looking back at the shattered rear window. Instead, she flipped open the glovebox and used the dim light from within to illuminate the map. The road they were on was at the far edge of the map.

  “It looks like we’ll hit a series of bends in the road in about two miles. Then the road continues to meander around the perimeter of the lake, without any real turns.”

  Caine’s eyes did a quick circuit from the rearview mirror to the front. Then he looked over at her and spoke with quiet certainty. “Andrea, this is how it is. We can’t outrun them. So we have to take them out.”

  Caine looked back to the front and then looked over at her again and held her eyes for a moment.

  “We have to work together to do this.”

  Andrea stared at him without comprehension. Caine looked over and continued, “About a hundred yards past the bend up ahead, I’m going to do a U-turn and park the truck on the other side of the road, facing back toward Austin. As soon as the truck comes to a stop, I’m going to run up the road and get in position.”

  “What are you talking about?” Andrea started with frustration, but Caine interrupted her.

  “Listen to me, Andrea, I know this business. Trust me. We have to do this to survive.”

  Then he glanced in the mirror again and continued. “When I get out of the truck, slide over into the driver’s seat and wait. If the ambush works, pick me up after I stop shooting. If it doesn’t work, turn the truck around and get the hell out of here. Don’t wait for me and don’t stop for any reason.”

  It took her a second to process what he was saying.

  “Shooting? With what? This is insane.”

  Caine didn’t answer. He came down heavy on the brakes and the pickup rapidly slowed. Then he made a hard U-turn and parked the truck on the shoulder of the opposite side of the road, facing back toward Austin.

  The instant the truck stopped, Caine jumped out and grabbed something from under the front seat and stuck it in his jacket pocket. When he finished, he glanced up the road and then looked back over at her. The intensity on his face shocked her.

  “There’s no other way out, Andrea. If we don’t get away from them, we’re both dead. Okay?”

  Andrea found herself nodding, not because she agreed with him, but because she simply didn’t know what else to do. She slid over into the driver’s seat and watched Caine sprint about forty yards back up the road. Once he hit the midpoint in the sharp curve, he ran up the embankment, dropped into a kneeling position, and pulled out a gun.

  Travis County, Texas

  December 5, 1999 / Sunday / 11:45 p.m.

  Caine wiped the rain from his forehead and leaned forward as far as possible in order to get a view of the oncoming car. He could tell from the shape and the lights that the car was a big Mercedes-Benz sedan. The driver saw the curve in the road when he was about one hundred yards out, and started to reduce his speed. Just before the car started into the curve, the driver eased the car over the center line. This classic driving maneuver gave the driver more room to slide outward as the car raced through the curve. Caine had counted on it. It put the car closer to his position.

  Caine’s plan was to hit the front windshield first and then work the driver’s side windows as the car passed him. If he could shatter the windshield or the window on the driver’s side while the driver and the car were under maximum stress, there was a good chance the driver would lose control. At the speed the Benz was traveling, even a small error would cause a crash.

  Caine waited until the car had started into the curve before he opened up with the Browning, firing as rapidly as possible at the windshield. The glass on the driver’s side exploded after the third bullet, turning the windshield into an opaque spider web. The driver reacted to the unexpected explosion in front of his face by pulling the wheel away from the source of the incoming fire. This gave Caine a clear shot at the side window as the car raced past his position. He pumped four more shots into the car.

  When the driver of the Benz recovered from his initial shock, the car was headed toward the edge of the road and the steep slope beyond. Seeing this new threat, the driver pulled the wheel back toward the center of the road and pumped the brakes. This combination was too much and too soon on the rain-slick road. The Benz wheeled around in a complete circle and was starting into a second rotation when it hit the shoulder of the road and disappeared over the far edge.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

  Travis County, Texas

  December 5, 1999 / Sunday / 11:45 p.m.

  Andrea watched, mesmerized, as Caine fired round after round into the car racing around the curve. For an instant, she could see the white blur of the driver’s face through the windshield, and then the glass shattered. The Mercedes weaved away from Caine, and then it spun out of control, finally disappearing off the shoulder into the forest below.

  Andrea stared out at the silent, empty road and struggled to release the breath caught in her throat. When the involuntary constriction let go, she drew in a series of frantic breaths. A voice outside the truck drew her attention. She looked over to the right. Caine was running down the road toward the truck. She shifted the truck into drive and raced toward Caine, skidding to a stop a car-length past him.

  As soon as Caine climbed in the truck, Andrea floored the gas pedal. The
tires squealed in protest and spun for a second on the slick road, before gaining traction. Caine looked at her quickly and then turned to look out the rear window of the truck. When they were several hundred yards past the crash site, Caine turned back to front.

  Andrea stared at the road ahead. Her hands were gripping the top of the steering wheel so tightly that she could feel the strain in the back of her hands and the tension in her neck and shoulders. She didn’t look over at Caine, but she could feel his eyes on her. He leaned over slightly and looked at the speedometer.

  “Andrea, you can slow it down. We’re okay now.”

  A dam broke inside her.

  “Okay? Okay? Are you out of your mind! You just shot a car off the road! We’re not okay. You can be charged with assault with a deadly weapon, possibly attempted murder, and I can be charged with aiding and abetting. Don’t you realize how serious this is?”

  Caine looked out the rear window again, and then turned all the way around. He looked over at her for a moment, but she refused to look at him. Her eyes were glued on the road ahead.

  “Andrea, being dead is pretty serious, too. If someone wants to prosecute me for trying to stay alive, I’ll take that over the alternative any day.”

  Andrea’s head whipped around, and their eyes met. A torrent of anger that she didn’t understand was raging inside her. Caine saw the look and held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

  “Look, Andrea—”

  “No, you look. I want to know what’s going on and I want to know now.”

  “Okay. I’ll tell you what I know, but it’s not all that much. Just … ease off on the speed a little. Please?”

  For a moment Andrea wanted to scream at him, but she didn’t know exactly why, or what she wanted to say. She took a breath and slowly exhaled, trying to slow down her racing heart and get control of her anger. The background roar of the engine suddenly registered and she looked down at the speedometer. The needle was bouncing in the high nineties. She eased her foot off the accelerator and looked over at Caine when the speed had slowed into the seventies. He was looking out the rear window again. She looked up in the rearview mirror. The road behind them was dark and empty.

  “Where do you want me to start?” Caine said.

  “Let’s start with the basics. Where do you live and what do you do for a living?”

  Andrea realized that the she was treating Caine like a witness in a deposition. She knew it wasn’t fair, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “I live on a five-acre ranch outside the City of Hesperia, in California. Two nights ago—”

  Andrea interrupted him.

  “You skipped one. I want to know what you do for a living.”

  Caine hesitated for a moment and then answered.

  “I forge medieval swords, daggers, spears, and occasionally a shield, for collectors.”

  Andrea looked over at him, the skepticism was plain on her face.

  “Mr. Caine—”

  “I know. It sounds odd, but it’s true.”

  Andrea didn’t say anything, but the expression on her face didn’t change.

  “Let me give you an example of how it works. Right now I’m working on a sword for a doctor here in the United States. One of his ancestors was a knight who served Henry II of England.”

  Caine hesitated long enough to glance out the rear window again and then continued.

  “The client gave me a basic description of the weapon from a family diary that was kept by a distant ancestor. Using this basic description as a starting place, I researched the characteristics of the blades that were used during that period of history, and then made a proposal to the client. He approved it, and now I’m in the middle of the project.”

  “Who’s the client?”

  “Dr. James Martin. He’s a neurosurgeon in Philadelphia. You’re welcome to call him to confirm these facts, but you might want to wait for a couple of hours. It’s 1:00 a.m. in Philly.”

  “Where do you do this work?” Andrea asked, her tone guarded, but no longer openly skeptical.

  “I work in a converted barn at my ranch. I have a forge there.”

  “Do you have any employees?”

  “No, it’s just me. I … I try to re-create the conditions that existed when the weapons were made. So I do the work myself and use the same tools they used in that time period. This makes the end product as authentic as possible.”

  Andrea looked over at Caine and then looked back at the road. She could tell he was trying to allay her suspicions, but he didn’t seem to be lying.

  “That’s … interesting. The last time we talked, you said something about having a run-in with these people. What was that about?”

  Caine hesitated. Andrea noticed his hesitation and looked over at him, but his face was turned away. He was lowering the incline of the seat. When he finished, he turned back to her.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  Andrea looked at his face and could see the fatigue. The anger dissipated, and she felt a wave of reproach.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Caine. I don’t mean to interrogate you. You … you probably saved my life back there and I haven’t even said thank you. So let me say it. Thank you. Thank you very much. I … I’m just trying to find out how you fit into all of this.”

  “No apology necessary, and I’m okay with the interrogation,” Caine said, a small smile on his face.

  Andrea smiled in response.

  “You were going to tell me about the other night,” Andrea prompted.

  “Yes. On Sunday, I was staying at my cabin in the San Bernardino Mountains. It’s in a remote area. At about 2:00 in the morning, I was awakened by a low-flying chopper. I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I walked into the kitchen to get something to eat. When I looked out the window, a group of armed men was circling the cabin. My—”

  “You saw them?” Andrea interrupted. “How many were there?”

  “At least four,” Caine answered.

  “Why didn’t you call the police?” Andrea said.

  “Andrea, my place is more than a mile from the road, and the town is another five miles to the west. There’s no telephone service out there, either by a landline or cell phone. Calling the police and waiting around for help wasn’t an option.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I had to get out of there. I took off through the forest on my snowmobile. Whoever was after me fired a few shots in my direction when I was trying to get away, but luckily, they missed.”

  “And then?”

  “Once I was clear of the area, I made my way into town and bought an old junker from a guy at a local garage, and drove off the mountain. End of story.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the police when you reached the town?” Andrea said, an undercurrent of suspicion in her voice.

  Caine hesitated and then answered, “What exactly was I going to tell the police? That a helicopter landed near my cabin and a group of men carrying automatic weapons tried to kill me?”

  “Yes. That’s what happened, right?”

  “Yes, that is what happened, but it’s more complicated than that. The police operate within certain parameters. Once a situation gets outside those lines, they assume that they’re dealing with a crackpot or worse. This … this situation was way—”

  “I’m not a criminal lawyer,” Andrea said, “but the evidence was there to confirm your story. The forensic people would have found the bullets.”

  “Under two feet of snow?” Caine said, quiet skepticism in his voice.

  “So what? With the proper equipment and resources, they could find them.”

  “Maybe they could, but it’s unlikely they’d make the effort. This is not the FBI we’re talking about. Snow Valley’s a very small town. The local guys would be reluctant to commit the time and resources needed to find the bullets. It’s far more likely they’d assume I was some kind of nut who should be locked up for a psych evaluation. I wasn’t going to risk tha
t. So I just got out of there.” Caine could tell from the look that Andrea gave him that she wasn’t buying it.

  “Well, I’m certainly going to tell the Austin police about what happened tonight, and they damn well better believe me.”

  “Look, I think you should do whatever you think is right, I just—”

  Andrea jumped on the doubt in his voice.

  “Mr. Caine, there’s a car back there that’s off the road. That car will provide irrefutable proof for at least a part of my story, and once they trace the car, the police will find the driver, or at least the owner. It may take some time, but they will find out who is behind these criminal acts.”

  When she finished, Caine sat forward and turned to look directly at her.

  “That … that car may not be there when the police arrive at the scene. In fact, I can almost guarantee it won’t be there an hour from now.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course it will be there, or they’ll have a record of it being moved.”

  “If my suspicions are correct, these people killed Richard Steinman, sent a chopper full of armed men to attack me in a remote cabin in the San Bernardino Mountains, bugged your apartment, and then arranged for a team to kidnap you at the Portman Lodge. They did all of that within seventy-two hours. That takes major resources. For these folks, making a car disappear from a country road would be small change.”

  Andrea stared at Caine and then looked out the front window.

  “That’s all pure supposition. None of those events may be connected, and I don’t know you well enough to believe that they all happened in the first place. In fact, this may not be a very smart question to ask, since you’re sitting next to me with a gun, but how is that you’re such an expert in this business?”

  Andrea regretted the sting in the question as soon as she finished, and looked quickly over at Caine. Caine was rubbing his eyes when he answered. His voice was calm, even regretful.

  “Andrea, I sincerely hope all of these events are just a series of random happenstances because it improves our survival odds, and I’m all for that. As for being an expert, I’m not. But I was a soldier for fifteen years. I know weapons, tactics, and hand-to-hand combat. Most of all, I know something about staying alive when people are trying to kill me.”