by DiAnn Mills
She refused to believe the walls of her country had been breached—again. The sobering comments of Americans not grasping the threat of what lay outside their doors surfaced. He was indeed a monster. The thought of the airport bombing as a launch for yet another attack sickened her, and she was helpless to stop him. All the law enforcement with their intel and citizens committed to keeping America safe were about to be defeated. She’d experienced the horror and would never forget the blood and destruction.
“What’s your real name?” she said.
“You don’t like Ethan Formier? My wife does.”
“She knows about your plot?” Ethan had adopted his wife’s sons too. What an upstanding citizen.
He shook his head. “I’m her Ethan. Nothing else. Didn’t want to risk her turning me in.” He studied his phone. “She’s a good woman and will go to her grave believing I died at the airport. That way she and the boys can live in the lifestyle I’ve given them and not ever experience my hand in the bombing. One of the reasons I faked my death was to protect them.”
His cold bluntness meant he had no problem eliminating anyone. “Then what’s your name?”
“You can call me Ethan. It comes natural for you.”
“Who’s paying your expenses?”
“Another one of my secrets. You’re a smart woman, Taryn. You know what to ask.”
In the candlelight, he no longer looked like the Ethan she respected. His eyes narrowed, and the set of his chin indicated anger . . . no, rage. She’d have to be careful. His right finger rested near the trigger of his gun. But he’d been left-handed. “Are you ambidextrous?”
“Observant. I learned to use both hands. Improved my golf game.”
He’d be harder to overcome if he didn’t favor one hand over the other. Stall him. “What’s happening at eleven o’clock?”
He finished his coffee. “You know the answer to that, my dear.”
“Blowing up the export terminal for LNG in Corpus Christi and Canada on the West Coast.”
“Well done.” He chuckled, a sound she’d once welcomed. “No one will be left alive who can point a finger at me. I’ve plans to eliminate all those involved in Gated Labs or the bombing.”
Control, Taryn. Don’t look shocked or afraid. Buy time . . . and strength. “Who do you work for?”
“Think about it.”
“Russia?”
“I have friends there. We share . . . let’s say, similar goals.”
The speculation had been one of the reasons why she’d developed Nehemiah. “I thought you wanted software developed?”
“I do—for my friends.”
“What kind of projects?”
“Infrastructure designed to destroy your country.”
Did he really think she’d do such a thing? Unless . . . “Where would I work?”
“Out of the country.”
“I need Zoey to be set free. I do have a bargaining chip, Ethan.”
“What if Wallace is taking care of her now?”
“I don’t think so. She’s alive until you don’t need me.”
Ethan swung his hand across her face, sending her sprawling to the cracked linoleum floor. She tasted blood. “That’s for all the insolent remarks and the trouble you’ve caused me. I have your life in the palm of my hand.”
“And I have the knowledge to help you reach your hideous goals. I can be just as stubborn as you.”
He grabbed her chin and jerked her to her feet. “Only as long as I allow it.”
At the thud of footsteps outside the back door, he bolted from his chair. Expectancy sprang to life. Could it be the FBI had found her? “It’s our friend Wallace. Truly a professional. He’s bringing the package.”
A moment later the door squeaked open, and Wallace entered, a sleeping child in his arms.
Zoey.
CHAPTER 64
8:40 A.M. FRIDAY
When the county sheriff and deputies, two FBI vehicles, and an ambulance arrived at the crime scene, Grayson phoned the SSA and left the area with Joe. Less than two and a half hours until the export launch, and like every agent and law enforcement officer committed to their job, he would not give up until those responsible were cuffed. More priorities hit his list: Taryn and Zoey found.
From the dozen or so anonymous tips that poured in from the area north of Houston, one from Frank finally held credence. At seven thirty this morning, a man and woman on motorcycles who lived in the Willis area were returning from searching for Zoey and noticed two sets of tire tracks heading down a tree-lined, mud-laden lane that led to an abandoned small house and barn. The owner lived out of state and had let it run down. Normally the couple wouldn’t question the activity, due to kids partying, but there weren’t any vehicles visibly parked in the open field. Not like kids, who always partied in numbers. Another oddity was the absence of beer bottles or telltale odors from a bonfire or weed.
“Did the couple ride back to the property?” Grayson said.
“He started to, but the wife talked him out of it,” Frank said. “They pulled their bikes over and walked along the wooded side. Heard a car and saw a Honda Accord pull out of the old barn and head toward Willis.”
In time to build a sniper nest for Iris Ryan, and he’d passed a car of that description a few minutes before the shooting. “Thanks, Frank. I’m going to owe you big-time.”
“You don’t owe me a thing. My friends stopped to see a feller who lives near the property. He owns woods bordering the rear of the place. The owner said he noted an SUV, a Lincoln, and a Honda driving in and out of there for the last two weeks, but the driver parked out of view of the road.” Frank gave them directions.
“We’re on our way.” Grayson left dirt and gravel in his wake.
“You’re going on your gut,” Joe said.
“Seems right. Whether we find Taryn or Zoey, I feel like it’s crucial we check out the spot.” Urgency nipped at his heels, and he scrutinized every car and truck along the road.
“I’ve been in your shoes. No logic to the decision, just a sixth sense, and we follow the instinct until we hit pay dirt. Iris Ryan obviously thought she was in the right place.” Joe picked up his phone. “I’m calling the SSA with this development.”
The abandoned property was about three and a half miles outside of town on FM 1097 beyond Price Lake and on the outskirts of Sam Houston National Forest. Grayson fought the urge to speed. Instead he drove slowly on the country road with the windows down, always looking, always listening. Cows drank from a pond. Birds chirped their good morning. A couple of trees revealed shades of autumn. In the distance, a tractor rumbled to life. A school bus ahead flashed a signal to turn right.
A call from the SSA came in. Grayson hoped for something good since they’d just talked. “Yes, sir.”
“Got an update for you,” the SSA said. “Ethan Formier isn’t dead.”
“What do you mean?” Grayson startled. “I thought his body had been identified.”
“DNA report just hit my attention, and the man with Formier’s ID worked at the airport. Looks like the VP of product development at Gated Labs staged his own death.”
Grayson’s mind spun with the man’s top security clearance. Formier had worked at his current position for over seventeen years. Taryn highly respected him. The perfect cover. “He’s up to his eyeballs in this mess.”
“His real name has been confirmed as Valmir Korzha, a Serbian. He’s been in the US for twenty years. Fell under our radar soon after he arrived in our country. Intel shows us he took on the name of Ethan Formier, married a widow with three children, and played the role of the perfect family man. Joined a church. Supported charities. Served on the school board.”
“A sleeper. He can’t be happy about Taryn keeping things from him about Nehemiah.”
“Right. We’re working on assumptions here, but we’re thinking the airport bombing was a diversion from the software theft. We’ve learned his parents and family were killed during the
struggle when the Serbs attempted to alienate the Albanians.”
“Serbs despise Americans because of our interference.”
“Exactly. Could be Korzha was content living in the US until his family was killed. And that brought him out of hiding to seek revenge.”
“Like making a statement at terminal E, fueling his revenge.”
“By killing his alias, nothing leads back to him. High dollars are supporting his activities. We’re digging deeper to find the who and what’s planned. His wife is devastated, incredulous about his real identity. All of this will be presented in a briefing here in five minutes. We’re holding a press conference at nine thirty and will release to the media and public all our findings on Korzha.”
“Do you think the Serbian Mafia is funding him?” Grayson said.
“We have intel stating a faction inside Russia is behind this.”
Enough said. “I don’t suppose the export companies will postpone their launch?”
“We don’t have proof of any wrongdoing, and their software is working. We’ve shared our concern, but it’s still a go for them,” the SSA said. “The two companies have stated there is little proof to link the airport bombing to them. Of course, both want to make history. Which means we have a little over two hours to wrap this up. Korzha obviously thought he didn’t need Young in the beginning and banked on her death at the airport. If his intentions are to damage our infrastructure, he’ll stop at nothing. The hacker is working on the needed access, but nabbing Young ensures it.”
He understood the power of torture. Not his Taryn.
The SSA cleared his throat. “I need something substantial for the two companies to alter their schedule. This is clearly a big deal for both US companies to turn on the spigot simultaneously, with lots of media attention.”
“Could the file Taryn uncovered from Korzha have been a plant to draw her into a trap?” Grayson said.
“It definitely pounded a few nails in Haden Rollins’s coffin. A dead man had encrypted files that pointed to the guilt of other persons in a terrorist case. With Formier’s reputation, his eulogy would have read like a hero’s.”
“How do you think Ryan fits?”
“She was probably in just as thick. We’ll see what we learn once we finish examining her files.”
Grayson didn’t ask how long that would take. “So who’s Wallace working for?”
“Given his reputation, I’d say Korzha. If Murford was the only assassination, he’d have left the country as soon as he completed the kill. But Ryan’s murder has his signature, which suggests she could have been running or didn’t think Korzha would eliminate her. Wallace’s habit is execution style, and Taryn’s disappearance is his first kidnapping. The payoff must be really good.”
“What’s Rollins say about it?”
“Claims he never heard of Korzha. Said Formier was so straight his shoes squeaked. Neither did Pedraza recognize the name. Facing murder and possible kidnapping charges is loosening his tongue. Pedraza and his attorney have been deep in discussion. He didn’t take his sister’s death well. Look, Grayson, we’ve got to find Taryn before it’s too late. Korzha and Wallace know how to get information, and if they already have access . . . you know the stakes.”
“We’re nearly there.”
“The sheriff is offering backup. Sit tight until everything’s in place. Radio the agents in the area now.”
“Thanks.” If he had more time to think, he could lay out all the scenarios Korzha and Wallace might use. Right now all he had was thick woods to penetrate.
CHAPTER 65
9:00 A.M. FRIDAY
Some days Grayson would like to toss his BlackBerry—and he’d done that very thing a few days ago. Had it really been just the early hours of Tuesday morning when he and Taryn raced through the streets of Houston? When had his feelings for her begun?
Admiration rose when she called him from the church.
Respect hit him when she announced her determination to be a decoy.
Her courage in the middle of danger and unpredictable behavior made her more attractive.
He rubbed his eyes. The blur of days and the building of one critical issue after another were getting to him. Now he and Joe waited on the side of the road for confirmation of every man in place before pressing forward to what might be a useless venture.
“Are you going to answer that?” Joe said, his tone indicating irritation. “It’s rung three times.”
The caller was the SSA. “Yes, sir.”
“Have you arrived at your destination?”
“We’re waiting on backup. You’ve seen the layout with the house on the left and a barn about thirty yards to the right. But neither Korzha nor Wallace would take a chance on being surprised.”
“Don’t play the hero and go in alone. You’ve got good people there. Grayson, you’re personally involved with this case. Don’t let it cloud your judgment and get yourself and others killed. Taryn knew the risks when she signed on.”
“Yes, sir.” The SSA hadn’t said anything Grayson hadn’t told himself.
“Do you have any idea how many lives have been lost in this case? I refuse to lose any more on my watch. Focus on Korzha and Wallace. You’re a detailer and plan to the millisecond. Get the job done.”
“I will.” He understood his strengths, his ability to get into a criminal’s mind and keep one step ahead of their plans.
“Good luck.”
Hope, the sustenance of man’s fiber. A prayer lifted for all the law enforcement personnel ready to end this week of terror.
9:10 A.M. FRIDAY
Taryn listened to Ethan explain the two software projects he wanted her to develop. Both sealed the fate of the US. His delight in crippling her country, her home, sent claws of horror through every part of her. She fought to breathe . . . think . . . pray.
Zoey slept at her feet on a filthy floor where rodents crawled. The little girl’s baby doll tucked under her arm. How could she free herself and Zoey from these two madmen? The poor child had been injected with a sleep aid that would keep her oblivious to the world for a while longer. Wallace had revealed that the woman who’d hidden her for Murford was dead—Dina Pedraza, a sister to the man in custody.
Wallace stood at the back door with a high-powered rifle.
“I’m very excited about developing new software for distinct purposes,” Ethan said. “One will attack dam infrastructure. Remember our discussion several weeks ago about the concern for the US’s infrastructure? Over 4,050 dams in this country are just a hair away from failing. We intend to help that problem along by eliminating a handful of the larger ones. Imagine the deaths and loss of property. Makes the airport bombing look quite small. Don’t you think?” He smiled. “The second target will be the sewage system for the top five major cities. Polluted water. Disease. More deaths. Loss of fish and wildlife. People starving. When this country’s economy is snuffed out and mass panic occurs, the US will fall. You can be a tremendous asset to us, Taryn. Other developers are good, but not with your tenacity and expertise. We’ll launch both projects at the same time, like we’ll do with the two LNG companies this morning.”
“Is there anything I can do to stop you from igniting this disaster?”
“And deny me the pleasure?”
“What about all the innocent lives you’ll destroy?”
“No margin of concern here. The end justifies the means. Something else, too. I’ll need to get into Gated Labs technology, and I’m sure you’ll find a way to make that possible. It’s a shame Rollins is such a wimp. I could have used him internally.”
The futility of trying to talk him down from anything catastrophic hit her hard. He enjoyed what he was doing. That was the new reality. It amazed her how Ethan had fooled those at Gated Labs, his family, and her. The latter made her furious. She’d come so close to giving him Nehemiah’s information before leaving the country with Murford. Nobody would ever use her like a pawn again. She’d risen to the status
of leading software developer through grueling work and not compromising when the stakes were high. In this instance, the stakes could not get higher . . . the lives of many innocent people, including Zoey.
“So for me and Zoey to survive, I need to use my skills for the detriment of my country. Tough bargain, don’t you think?”
“What are your priorities? Life or patriotism for a country that’s being defeated by the same principles that made it great?” He snorted. “Your integrity bores me. Because of my generosity, you and that kid have been given an opportunity to live.”
She could argue, or she could feign agreement. The US was her home, and she’d die defending it no matter what the rest of the world thought. “Ethan, you give me no choice. I see where the world’s headed—technology rules the planet.”
His lips curled. “You’ll have the finest working environment. I’ve overseen the area, and you and Zoey will be able to live on-site.” He smiled. “You can thank me now,” he said as calmly as though he spoke about the weather.
The candle on the table flickered. “When would I begin?”
“That’s a better attitude. We’ll leave the country tonight.”
She pretended to consider his words. At an airport, she could find a way to escape. Weren’t all the airways covered? Her face was posted everywhere. “What about clothes and personal items for us?”
“I’ll arrange for someone to get whatever you need. Where we’re going is not a fashion spot.”
Russia had much to gain by destroying the export of LNG, but controlling the infrastructure of the US? Government agencies would see what was happening and stop the grandiose scheme. Her stomach tightened. Maybe the plan wasn’t impossible.
Ethan laughed. “Even in the shadows, I see the wheels turning. You want all the answers now, but your curiosity will have to take a hiatus.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Who knows? Your services could be used indefinitely. Depends on how nice you are to me.”
Sleeping with the enemy. . . . A disgusting thought, but she wasn’t surprised by the implication. “Can you please untie me?”