Race Against Time: A Novel

by Kimberley Woodhouse

  “Verified match.” The monotone, computerized voice echoed in the tiny compartment. “Captain Richard Lewis. Major Cole Maddox. State your code for voice recognition.”

  “Captain Lewis. Charlie Bravo Victor Two-Eight-Seven-Six Tango Alpha.”

  “Major Maddox. Alpha Golf November Three-Niner-Seven-Four Kilo Zulu.”

  The elevator began its descent. “Access granted.”

  Funny, the elevator sounded as stiff as some of his superiors.

  Captain Lewis turned to Cole in an at-ease position as the elevator stopped. “Sir, let me know if I can be of further assistance.”

  “Thanks, Lewis. I believe that’ll be all for now.”

  “Hooah, sir.”

  Both men slid their cards one more time and the doors opened. Cole stepped out and shared a parting salute with the captain.

  Turning on his heel, he faced the immense security entrance to AMI.

  Advanced Missile Interceptor.

  His long-time friend and spec ops boss, Marcus Gray, had invented the technology, prototype, and the guidance system for this defense weapon. Marcus almost let greed take over—he’d almost sold it all on the black market—when Cole found out and confronted him. Marcus came to his senses, assured Cole he’d return AMI to the U.S., but was murdered before he could.

  Car bomb.

  Cole had been with him, in his car, only moments before. He’d promised to take care of Marc’s family if anything happened to him. To help retrieve AMI and get it back into the correct hands.

  He had no idea how that promise would change his life forever.

  Marc’s wife, Jenna, and daughter, Andie, were almost killed when another operative was sent to sabotage their plane a year after Marc’s death. Their home was destroyed by a group of rogue black ops soldiers who would stop at nothing to gain this revolutionary technology. In the midst of it all, Cole found the Lord.

  And fell in love with Jenna.

  Now, almost nine months later, the Army had built one of the highest security facilities in the nation to house AMI, he’d married Jenna, and the military was getting ready to test their first prototypes of Marc’s invention.

  “Good morning, Major.”

  Cole pulled himself from his memories and focused on the general walking toward him at a brisk clip.

  “Morning, General.” Cole offered a salute as they were both armed.

  “After months of preparation, I believe we’re ready. Gray’s notes were intricately detailed. Let’s hope it all goes smoothly.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The general walked him into the ops/mainframe area, down the steps, and up to the podium at the front. Everyone stood at attention. “Ladies and gentlemen. This is our first trial run of AMI. Several tests have taken place, but not with every facet engaged. We will begin the countdown at 1100 sharp. Please run final diagnostics.”

  Feet shuffled and chairs squeaked as everyone took their places. A thrill raced through Cole. To know he had snatched this back from enemy hands, and that Marc’s dying wishes would be fulfilled, that the United States would be protected . . .

  That’s what it was about.

  “Major Maddox!” A wiry man ran from an upper deck waved papers in the air as he attempted to keep his feet and take three stairs at a time down to the command level.

  Cole stiffened. This didn’t look good.

  “General! Major Maddox!” The slight officer came to a halt in front of Cole and shoved his glasses higher on his nose. “We have a problem, sir.” He handed Cole a still-warm printout.

  The general’s brow furrowed as he approached. “What seems to be the trouble?”

  Cole speed-read the data on the papers. The last paragraph clenched his gut.

  “Major?”

  He gritted his teeth, and a muscle popped in his cheek. “General, sir. We have to abort. Apparently Gray embedded an encryption for the final sequence. It was undetectable until the sequence started. From what this report says, once all the pieces are in place, a code must be entered or the program self-destructs.”

  The general spun and yelled across the gallery. “Shut it down!”

  Everyone scrambled to stop the procedure before the countdown started.

  “We have less than sixty seconds, people! Shut. It. Down!”

  Cole examined the printout again. What had he missed? They’d spent months poring over Marc’s data. They’d followed everything to the smallest detail.

  The general interrupted his thoughts. “Major. This is beyond serious. The congressional committee is convening in four weeks, and we are supposed to present our findings then. If the public finds out that millions of tax-payer dollars were used to develop this weapon, and we failed?” His mouth clamped into a hard line. He jabbed a finger in Cole’s face. “If you can’t figure this out, heads are gonna roll.”

  The man clasped his hands behind his back and turned to stalk away. As he did so, he threw one more comment over his shoulder: “And son? Mine will be second. Right after yours.”

  * * *

  SEAN

  January 15

  Naltsiine Kennels

  12:00 p.m.

  He could hardly believe Anesia had called him back.

  Sean nodded at Beth, another employee, who guided him back into Ms. Naltsiine’s—no, Anesia’s—office.

  Of course, calling him back didn’t mean he got the job. It might mean she just wanted the chance to ream him in person. His family was too high profile. No way she hadn’t gotten the facts.

  All of them.

  No matter. He wanted a fresh start. He’d done nothing illegal. She was an intelligent woman. Certainly she’d understand why he didn’t disclose the full truth about his identity.

  She summoned him to sit with a wiggle of her fingers as she finished up a phone call. Her quiet tone relaxed him and without his consent, his mind wandered, taking in all the pictures, trophies, and Alaskan culture. Carvings lined the walls. Ivory, wood, and several sets of the little Russian nesting dolls.

  Anesia tapped her pen on the desk as she spoke into the phone bringing Sean back to the present. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” With a press of a button, she ended the call and turned to him. “Well, apparently”—she folded her hands in front of her—“your background is clean as a whistle.”

  “I couldn’t imagine they’d find anything.” Liar. Other than his identity.

  “And your record at Harvard is very impressive.” She rose from her desk. “I’m sorry I doubted you. Your background sounded a bit too unbelievable. Which brings me to my point. There’s still the question of why you want to work here. I need someone stable. Someone I can rely on. How do I know you’ll stay? Your education and experience could take you anywhere.”

  Sean looked straight into her eyes. “I’ll make a commitment to you.” He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted this job.

  Her brow furrowed. “But you don’t even know what the job is like. How do you know it’s a good fit for you?”

  “Instinct.”

  She studied him for several moments. No telling what thoughts raced through her head.

  “No offense, Sean, but you’re thirty-seven years old.”

  He held up a hand. “In other words, am I having a mid-life crisis because I left a vice-presidency and hiked to Alaska?” He stood, hating himself for letting his anger take hold, but he was not about to let this tiny woman insult him. “I can assure you, that is not the case.”

  She crossed her arms and stared him down. The hand-carved clock in the corner ticked off the seconds. “All right. How about I make you a deal?”

  “A deal?”

  “Yes. Let me show you around, give you a feel for what the job will be. Then we can discuss everything else.”

  The relief
that swept him was as profound as it was surprising. He drew a steadying breath and nodded. “That’s an excellent idea. Thank you.”

  “Let’s go.” She led the way out the door. “Normally, you’d need coveralls, XtraTufs boots in the summer and bunny boots in the winter—the dog yard can be disgusting—and if we come to an agreement, I’ll provide those for you. But for today, be careful, because the dogs will get excited to meet you.” Anesia looked up and down his frame. “You might get dirty.”

  “I’m not afraid of a little dirt.”

  “Good.” She slid on a pair of worn coveralls. They pulled on coats and boots and headed out the door.

  The air was crisp and clean. Unlike anything he’d ever breathed. He could get used to this.

  “If you don’t mind, we’ll walk over to the kennel. We try to keep this path plowed of snow, and that will probably be a job I will delegate to you. I hate clearing snow.”

  “Not a problem.”

  She led him down a long, snowy path toward the fenced-in kennel area. It didn’t take long before the dogs knew they were coming. Yips and barks started in staccato rhythm until the chorus grew and swelled on the wind. If she hadn’t already told him the numbers, he would’ve thought there were hundreds of them waiting at the kennel.

  “They’re excited that we’re coming.” Her steps picked up speed.

  Her braid swayed back and forth in time to the spring in her step as they approached her animals. She loved this. How long had it been since he loved what he did? Could he ever have that same passion? A long moment passed as Anesia punched in a code, opened the gate—and the yearning in his soul grew.

  She ushered him in and closed the gate. “You might want to stay here and watch for a few minutes. They need to get used to your smell. Otherwise, they’ll be all over you.”

  “Okay.” He heeded her words. The sight in front of him was overwhelming, to say the least.

  Dogs as far as the eye could see. Jumping, running in circles, and barking in glee at their master. The doghouses were all lined up in rows—one house for each dog. A steel pole stood beside each house, and the dogs were attached to their pole by a long chain. Long enough to give them a wide circle of running room around their houses, but short enough to keep them out of each other’s domain.

  Sean couldn’t help but chuckle at the antics of these prized animals. Some circled their house over and over, while others jumped in the air, onto their doghouses, or attempted flips to get Anesia’s attention. The cacophony of barking would have driven any of his Boston friends mad and sent them reaching for their earplugs.

  Working her way up and down the rows, she spent time with each dog, loving on them, talking to them, rubbing their ears. And they adored her. They licked and barked, and nuzzled up to her.

  He allowed his gaze to roam over the acre of enclosed property and understood the job with a clarity he hadn’t anticipated. These dogs were her livelihood. But they weren’t just dogs. They were family. Several times she stopped and knelt beside one, checking paws, feeling limbs, looking over their coat. Each one needed care and attention.

  He looked to the far end of the kennel and noticed smaller, separate fenced-in areas. He walked toward them to check them out.

  “Those are the isolation kennels.” Anesia fell into step beside him.

  “Isolation?”

  “Yes. For the dogs in heat that we don’t want to breed at the time, for an injured dog, or for a misbehaving dog that might be bullying or hurting others.”

  “So, in a way, it’s like what some parents call a time-out?”

  “Very astute, Mr. Connolly.” Anesia laughed. “Exactly like that, yes.”

  “In essence, you have another seventy-five children.”

  She leaned her head back and laughed louder. A beautiful sound. “Sean, you crack me up.” She smacked him on the arm. “I think you’ll fit in fine.”

  Her acceptance warmed but unsettled him all at the same time.

  “Come. Meet the dogs.” Anesia took hold of his arm and tugged him toward the yapping masses.

  Stopping just beyond the reach of the nearest dog, Anesia held out her arms. “Well, here they are.” Her face absolutely glowed. This was her love. Her life. “The chains have colors on them, do you see?”

  Very interesting. “I do now. Why are they colored?”

  “Helps us keep track of the different litters. All the dogs from a litter are given a color. The blue chains are the Bible Litter. The green are the Glacier Litter. The pink, the Painkiller Litter—”

  He frowned. “Painkiller?”

  Her dark eyes twinkled. “Yep. Zoya names all the dogs. That particular litter was born after a friend was in the hospital.”

  “So what are their names?”

  “Morphine, Aspirin, Ibuprofen, Percocet, Codeine, and Caffeine.”

  “Caffeine?” He furrowed his brow. “I didn’t know that was a painkiller.”

  “In Alaska, Sean, you’ll find out that caffeine can cure just about anything.”

  He couldn’t help it. He grinned.

  Anesia continued down the rows. He followed. Just like a puppy himself.

  “The red are the Sweets Litter, yellow is the Weather Litter. Over here, in orange, is the Flower Litter, purple is the Wildlife Litter, white is the Herb Litter, black is the Ice Cream Litter, and the multicolored chains are the Alaska Litter.”

  “What about those two rows over there?”

  “Those are the two that are sold to a man from Iceland. He won’t be here for another month or so to pick them up, but he wants to start breeding his own and he likes ours because they’ve proven to be fast.”

  “Fascinating.” Sean took another long look around the kennel. “They’re beautiful. But not what I expected. What breed are they?”

  “German short-haired pointer and Alaskan Husky mix.”

  He nodded. “Anesia, forgive me. But this is a lot of information to take in all at once. I’m still processing.” His fingers itched to grab his camera out of the truck. The dogs would be great subjects.

  She smacked his arm. Again. “Don’t worry about it, and don’t be so serious. You can lighten up, you know. You don’t have to be all ‘professional’ out here, but I do need you to care and do your best.”

  What a change! In the office she’d seemed so serious, all business. Out here? She was vibrant. Totally in her element. Even . . .

  Joyous.

  “Uh, thank you. I will. I had no idea.” This job wasn’t about manual labor. He would be caretaking. All these beautiful animals. And it mattered.

  “It’s all right. Let’s head back to the house. I’ll show you some more after lunch.”

  He couldn’t hold back the request any longer. “Would you mind if I took some pictures out here sometime? Your dogs are handsome animals.”

  A smile lit her face. Pride shining from head to toe. “They are gorgeous, aren’t they? Sure, you can take pictures. Are you a photography buff?”

  “I am. Have always enjoyed being behind the camera, peering at the world through a lens.” An uncomfortable feeling filled his stomach. Time to change the subject. “I took the liberty of doing some research last night. Sounds like you and Zoya are quite the champions.”

  She kept walking toward the house.

  “I know this is racing season, so might I inquire about when your next race will be?”

  She spun to face him. No trace of her brilliant smile remained. “We won’t be doing any racing for a while, Mr. Connolly.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  ANDIE

  January 15

  Naltsiine Kennels

  12:26 p.m.

  “I think Auntie Anesia’s outside.” I pushed the soft silky curtains out of the way. Then peeked out the window.


  Sure enough, Auntie and Mom were talking to a man.

  A strange man. A really strange man.

  Who is he and what’s he doing here?

  I squinted. Nope. Never seen him before . . . I shrugged off the questions and turned back to Zoya.

  Would Auntie and Mom let us go? I hope so! This had to work. If it didn’t, I should give up and retire.

  Zoya stood and headed for the door. It was the most of a smile I’d seen in days. Even though it wasn’t very big. Wasn’t even a smile.

  God, what’s wrong with her? She’s acting strange . . .

  It hurt to see her so upset. And yet she kept saying nothing was wrong. It hurt more knowing that she wasn’t telling me something. She had just closed up. Acted like a robot—stiff. Forced movements.

  Something was really wrong.

  We grabbed our coats and walked outside. The cold air hit my face with a big swoosh. Hopefully it wouldn’t start snowing. I tugged my coat closer. Just be thankful you’re not too hot, Andie.

  Thanks, God.

  Zoya didn’t seem to notice the cold. Like she was in another world, far away from everything. And everyone.

  I had no idea how to get her back.

  We walked on in silence. The dogs barked and jumped around their doghouses. Birds chirped and sang their joyful melodies.

  Zoya didn’t say a word.

  I was sick and tired of the quiet. Sick and tired! Girl, you need to suck it up and get back to normal. Wallowing isn’t going to help. Just try not to think about it.

  “Mom?”

  So she spoke. Improvement. I raised my eyebrows. If I could just get her to keep it up . . .

  Auntie and Mom turned and smiled at us. “Hey girls.”

  I waved. If only they could read my expression. I dropped my eyes. Then looked to Zoya.

  Auntie turned to the man standing beside her. “This is Sean Connolly. He might help us with the dogs.”

  I tried to smile, but how could I when my friend wasn’t being herself? She didn’t even say hello to the man. Urgh. Maybe she just needed someone to hit her over the head with a two-by-four.