The Evolution of Evil (The Blackwell Files Book 6)

by Steven F Freeman

  The boat’s powerful engines roared to life. Rios spun the wheel and made a course away from the dock. The vessel picked up speed as it exited the harbor.

  From the shore, the ocean had appeared relatively placid. Skimming across the open water, Alton was forced to change his assessment. Large swells passed underneath their craft in an irregular rhythm. As the boat crested one swell and crashed into the base of the next, Isabela Island often disappeared from sight behind a wall of water.

  “Hope no one gets seasick easily,” said Alton with a grin.

  “Let’s not talk about that,” said Cragmire. He rested his chin on his palms.

  “Not feeling well?”

  “Let’s just say I wish I had my Scopolamine patches.”

  The boat launched off the peak of a wave and experienced a moment of weightlessness before crashing into dark water on the far side. Alton wondered if the biologist could endure another two hours of this without his motion-sickness medicinal patches. Tuttle didn’t seem to be faring much better.

  Fuentes looked down at his cellphone, which had begun to ring. He motioned for Rios to power down the boat. The watercraft puttered across open water while Fuentes plugged up his free ear with a pinkie and spoke for several minutes.

  He clicked off the phone and pocketed it with an unhappy expression. Then Fuentes barked a command to Rios, who fired up the engines. The lieutenant spun the wheel to the left, accelerating the boat into a sharp U-turn and sending a splash of wake onto the vessel’s occupants.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Mallory.

  “My men trailed Chin to a tourist shop and waited outside for her to leave,” said Fuentes. “She was taking a long time, so they went into the shop. She was gone. They searched the city around the shop but couldn’t find her. One of our most important persons of interest has disappeared.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Nearly two hours later, Alton, Mallory, and Delaney sat in Summit’s lab, each engaged in their respective work. They looked up when Fuentes entered the room.

  “Any luck?” asked Alton.

  The police captain shook his head. “We eventually tracked Chin back to the inter-island ferry. Before she left the gift shop, she changed her shirt and added a hat and sunglasses. That’s probably how she slipped past my men.”

  “What time did she leave Isabela Island?”

  “About seven o’clock, heading back here to Santa Cruz. By the time we learned she had taken the ferry, she had already landed on the island and left the harbor.”

  “Maybe we’ll have better luck tomorrow,” said Alton.

  “I hope so,” said Fuentes. “And by the way…let me tell you all something. Lieutenant Torres asked the workers at LeFlore’s resort about his alibi for the night of Summit’s abduction. LeFlore really did meet with a guest named Linda…Linda Burton, to be exact. The bartender remembers them having drinks and looking ‘friendly.’ They left after sharing a few screwdrivers, but the bartender didn’t know what time that was.”

  “Did Torres check with Linda Burton to confirm the rest of the evening’s activities?” asked Alton.

  “He couldn’t. Linda checked out two days later. Torres left a message for the cellphone number she listed with the resort, but so far, she hasn’t replied.”

  “Even if she did confirm, it’s not like it’d be the most reliable testimony in the world,” said Mallory.

  “I agree,” replied Fuentes, “but at least we know LeFlore told the truth about some things.”

  “Agreed,” said Alton, “but surely he’d anticipate we’d verify that sort of thing, right? He’d be an idiot to lie about something like that.”

  Fuentes nodded. “I’ll let you all know if Torres hears back from Linda Burton.”

  “Thanks,” said Alton. “In the meantime, I’m going to stay to work late again tonight. Sergeant Muro will be stationed here in the building, right?”

  “Yes, he’ll be here in a minute. He’ll alternate between patrolling the building’s perimeter and inspecting the rooms from inside this building. I don’t think our criminal will be dumb enough to come back, but if he does, we’ll be waiting for him.” Fuentes studied Alton. “It’s getting late, mi amigo. You don’t want to get some sleep?”

  “I do, but it’s been five days since Summit’s abduction and still no word from her or her attackers. I’m worried that we’re running out of time…if we haven’t already.”

  “I’m going to wait here, too,” said Mallory.

  Alton turned to face his wife. “Don’t you want to head back to the resort and get some sleep? It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

  “Do you really think I’d hit the sack before you got back?”

  “Mmm…Point taken.”

  Sergeant Muro swung open the door to the lab and called out, “Buenas noches.” Behind him, a bank of rainclouds cast the night sky into inky blackness, and nearby palm trees and lush undergrowth swayed under the influence of the storm’s breeze. The plants rustled in the wind, issuing a soft moaning sound.

  Muro stepped forward and shut the door, yet the muffled sounds of wind could still be heard from outside.

  “Captain Fuentes,” said Mallory. “Do you have another officer guarding the guard shack at the property entrance?”

  “No, I don’t have enough men to put two on night guard duty, not if I want them working to track down Chin tomorrow. But I put a motion detector down at the entrance. If anyone or anything breaks the beam, you’ll know.”

  Mallory looked skeptical. “Couldn’t an animal trigger the alarm?”

  The captain smiled. “It could if I didn’t station the alarm’s optical scanners three feet in the air. Only a car or a human should trigger it.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “I’m fading, guys,” said Delaney, whose eyes indeed wore a haggard look. “I’m going back to the resort. You all can keep the rental. Captain Fuentes said he’d give me a lift.”

  Alton and Mallory settled into their assigned tasks, and the room fell into near silence, broken only by the occasional patter of laptop typing and the continued rustle of palm fronds and grasses from outside.

  Nearly an hour later, a soft double-beep broke the near silence.

  “What’s that?” asked Alton.

  “The motion sensor,” said Muro, who was passing through the lab on his rounds. “Something broke the beam at the entrance.”

  “Or someone,” said Mallory.

  The beeping repeated every five or six seconds.

  “Kill the lights!” said Alton. “And switch off your alarm. If our ‘friend’ is coming up the drive, let’s not scare him off.”

  Muro jabbed a black button on a device strapped to his belt, and the tones ceased. He then swiped at the panel of light switches, plunging the lab into darkness.

  Alton’s laptop cast an unnatural glow onto the room’s back wall. He snapped it shut. The lab’s only illumination consisted of those feeble traces of moonlight capable of penetrating the cloud cover and shining through the lab’s expansive glass windows.

  Alton realized the winds outside had dissipated, leaving behind an unnerving silence. He strained his ears to pick up any unusual sound that might herald the intruder’s approach but could discern nothing.

  He motioned for his wife and the policeman to gather around. “Assuming our visitor is walking, it’ll take three or four minutes for him to make it to this building. We don’t want him running away again. Let’s lay an ambush.”

  “What do you suggest, exactly?” asked Muro.

  “Did you bring a patrol car or your own?”

  “My own.”

  “Good. In that case, here’s my suggestion. Since you’re the only armed member of the group, why don’t you stay in here, just behind the main door? Mallory and I will go to the parking lot and hide on the other side of your car. Assuming our guy tries to enter through the main door, we’ll have him trapped. And you’ll have the firepower to keep him from running.”


  “Okay. Go!” said Muro.

  Mallory hurried as fast as maintaining silence would allow, while Alton limped along behind her. They pulled open the lab’s main door and peeked around the frame. Seeing no one, they crept to the far side of Muro’s aging Corolla.

  Alton withdrew his cellphone from his pocket but did not activate it. He held it low to the ground, using its dark glass as a mirror to spot their approaching prey. He gave a start of surprise and held up two fingers to Mallory.

  She nodded.

  Alton wished there were some way of warning Muro that a pair of perpetrators—not just one—approached his position. At least the policeman had his pistol drawn. Too bad Delaney hadn’t been able to convince Fuentes to arm the members of the NSA team.

  Alton waited in silent anticipation, his heart racing as the two intruders crested the hill and approached his hiding spot. Was the man with the scar a member of the pair? The night was simply too dark to tell. Perhaps more importantly, were the intruders armed? Alton had no way of knowing that, either.

  The two intruders turned onto the sidewalk leading to the lab’s main door. Moonlight cast their forms in dark silhouettes, but as they paused to confer, Alton could see the closest one held a handgun of some sort. He turned to Mallory and made the shape of a pistol with his hand. She nodded and peered around the vehicle’s front bumper.

  The intruders reached the lab’s main door and inserted two long metal pins into the lock in an apparent attempt to jimmy it open.

  Alton inhaled and released a long, silent breath. In the next few seconds, his trap would be sprung.

  CHAPTER 28

  The lock popped with a loud snick, and the intruders pushed the lab door open. They took a step forward into the black interior of the research building.

  Alton measured his breathing, steeling himself to act at the first sound of confrontation from within the building.

  “Pare! Stop!” said Muro, playing the beam of his flashlight onto the intruders’ faces. “Raise your hands!”

  A flock of nesting herons squawked in displeasure at the commotion and took flight.

  Muro backed the two men up a few paces until they stood outside. He barked a command at the intruders, and the armed one tossed his handgun onto the ground.

  The policeman issued another command, something about lying down. Rather than complying, the intruders turned to flee just as the Blackwells bolted from their hiding spot. One intruder veered away from his potential captors, running parallel to the front of the building, back down the drive from which he had just arrived.

  The second intruder swerved around Mallory and almost collided with Alton. He took a wild swing at Alton, who ducked and followed up with a roundhouse punch to the man’s stomach.

  The intruder gasped for breath but continued to stagger in a desperate bid to escape.

  Mallory lunged at the man and brought him down with a tackle that would have made any football player proud. The man smashed to the ground, his stomach impacting the soft grass with a violent whump. He rolled about in agony, groaning in a vain attempt to catch his breath.

  Alton straddled the man. “Don’t move.” He heard Muro racing up from behind. “We have this one. Go after the other guy!”

  Muro skidded to a halt and turned to race after the second culprit. “Pare! Stop!”

  The policeman ran down the drive, playing his flashlight across the ground in great arcs and sending another flock of squawking birds into the air. Within seconds, he disappeared from sight.

  After the previous night’s intrusion, Alton had decided to carry a few zip-ties in his pockets. He removed two and used them as an impromptu set of handcuffs on the intruder.

  “Stand up,” commanded Alton. He pulled the man up by his left arm. “Come inside.” By pulling the man’s elbow in tight and twisting his wrist, Alton used the standard “take along” maneuver to march his prisoner into the building.

  Switching on the lights, Alton started in surprise. The prisoner before him was no local. Tall and lanky with sandy hair and eyes that matched the color of the ocean’s depths, the intruder clearly hailed from North America. Alton sat the man down on a lab stool.

  “Who are you?” asked Alton.

  “Screw you! I’m not telling you anything.” The man’s accent pegged him as a New Jersey native.

  “That’s fine,” said Alton with a shrug. “I’ve heard the Ecuadorian police are more effective at extracting information anyway—not so many rules of engagement.”

  The man swallowed. His eyes opened a bit wider, but he remained silent.

  Alton dialed a number on his cellphone. “Delaney? You’d better get over to the lab. We had a couple of intruders again tonight. We captured one, some American I don’t recognize. The other one, his partner, got away. He’s probably the same guy who tried to break in last night.”

  Alton disconnected the call and turned back to the sullen figure before him. “So who’s really in charge? You or your buddy?”

  “If you Americans are going to question me, I want a lawyer. I’m not talking ‘til I get one.”

  Alton glanced at Mallory. “It’s your call, but once the Ecuadorian police get here, it’s out of our hands.”

  The prisoner maintained a sullen silence.

  Tuttle appeared at the door. He had not bothered to change from his pajamas. “I heard a commotion again—just like last night. What happened?”

  “Two guys tried to break in. One of them escaped, but we caught this one. Did you see anyone on the street on your way up here?”

  “Just a policeman running towards the main road. I couldn’t see who he was chasing.”

  “Do you recognize this guy?”

  Tuttle studied the intruder’s face. “Didn’t you come here last month? And the police had to come haul you away?”

  The prisoner snorted but said nothing.

  “It’s okay,” said Alton. “Delaney and the rest of the team are on their way. Can you stay for the questioning? Maybe something will spark another memory.”

  “Of course.”

  A quarter hour later, Fuentes, Delaney, and the rest of the NSA agents entered the lab. Cragmire rubbed his eyes and plopped down onto a lab stool while the others remained standing.

  Fuentes approached the intruder. Without speaking, he clicked tight a set of steel handcuffs, removed a heavy pocketknife, and sliced through the zip-ties securing his wrists. “Who are you?”

  “I told these guys before,” said the prisoner, nodding towards Alton and Mallory, “I’m not talking without a lawyer.”

  Delaney approached and stood in front of the man. “That’s fine. Captain Fuentes, you have a cell you can put this criminal in until he decides to talk, right?”

  “Oh, sí. There’s not much light in there, but I think this man is okay with doing things in the dark.”

  “You should be arresting Jan Summit, not me,” snapped the prisoner. “She’s the real criminal here.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Mallory.

  “The man’s rambling,” said Cragmire. “He’s just trying to cover his ass. Why should we listen to anything he has to say? We already caught him red-handed trying to break in.”

  “Let’s give him a chance to explain,” said Mallory.

  The prisoner’s face turned crimson with anger. “You want to know my name? Fine. It’s Robb Shoemaker. And I’ve been fighting Jan Summit ever since she came here to Santa Cruz.”

  “But she’s looking for a cure for Alzheimer’s. Why would you want to fight that?”

  “That’s just it. Her cure depends on extracting proteins from Galapagos tortoises, right? What do you think will happen if she finds that cure?” He glanced around his captors, but no one spoke. “Indigenous Galapagos tortoise species will be exploited and wiped out. Like I said, you should be arresting Jan Summit and her bosses at Lexington Labs, not me.”

  “Arrest them based on what?” asked Mallory. “Your prediction of what you think will happen?�
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  “C’mon. Open your eyes. If Lexington finds a cure, do you really think they’ll give a shit about a bunch of tortoises on some islands in the Pacific when there are billions of dollars to be made?”

  “But wouldn’t the potential profits give them a greater incentive to protect the species?” asked Alton. “They can’t kill the goose that’s laying the golden Alzheimer’s pills.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time mankind has made such shortsighted decisions,” said Shoemaker. “Besides, as soon as Lexington discovers how to synthesize the proteins in the lab, they don’t need the tortoises anymore. The animals only need to survive long enough for Summit and her puppet masters to discover the synthetic equivalent of the senescence proteins.”

  “Interesting theory,” said Delaney, “but not a sound basis for arresting anyone. You, on the other hand, are going to jail.”

  “For what? Walking around at night? Getting punched in the stomach by these guys?”

  Alton took a turn approaching the man. “For trespassing on private property. For breaking and entering. For carrying a weapon in a country where they’re banned. For attempted armed robbery. For the kidnapping and possible murder of Jan Summit.”

  Shoemaker hesitated. “I didn’t kidnap Summit, but I’m glad someone did. She needed to be stopped.”

  “If you had nothing to do with Dr. Summit’s kidnapping, why did you come here tonight?”

  “It’s the perfect time to disrupt her research, when she’s not here to stop us.”

  “Disrupt it how?” asked Alton.

  “I think I’ve shared all the details I want to share. I’m not saying anything else. And I demand that I be allowed to call a lawyer.”

  Fuentes took a step towards Shoemaker. “You demand?”

  The prisoner struck a defiant pose, and his voice climbed an octave. “I know my rights.”

  Fuentes took another step, stopping within inches of Shoemaker’s face. “Let me tell you about your rights. You are not in the United States, amigo. You are on my island. I am the law here. You make a call only if I feel like letting you do it.”