by Nic Saint
She blinked away a tear as she took this all in.
“What’s going on?” Felicity wanted to know.
“Reece took over Dorothy’s Facebook page. And he’s declared me her successor.”
“Let me see that.” She and Rick studied the page, and a smile curved Rick’s lips. “Looks like Reece was right after all. Dorothy was behind all this. And now he’s managed to repay her by taking over her page.”
She watched the page intently. A service message appeared, and then the page went blank. It had simply popped off. Dorothy Valour…was no more. At least not in the digital realm, where she’d dominated for the past seven years, the self-declared selfie queen of the world. She checked Dorothy’s other pages. “They’re all off-line,” she gasped. “Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, Snapchat… She’s simply gone.”
“Reece has slain the beast,” Felicity murmured, and Alice’s eyes swiveled to Reece, who was now walking back to the chopper. She was looking at the man with different eyes.
“The mayor is going to start the evacuation procedure,” he announced. “He’s asked us to assist in the process.”
Felicity, Rick, and Virgil quickly filed out of the chopper. They needed to get as many people out of Happy Bays as possible in the time that was left. Alice was the last one to remain, and she slung her arms around Reece’s neck, and planted a big kiss on his lips. He lingered, then drew back, surprised. “Does this mean you believe me?”
“Not only do I believe you,” she murmured, “but I think you’re the most wonderful man I know.”
He grinned widely. “You saw Dorothy’s page?”
“I saw what’s left of Dorothy’s page. Nothing! How did you do it?”
“Oh,” he said airily, “I know some people who know some people…”
She kissed him again, and this time allowed herself to be swept up in the moment. They were back, and it was if they’d never been apart.
A loud harrumphing sound took them out of their bliss. Alice’s father had come trotting up, and stood eyeing the couple critically. “Your father is joining me,” explained Reece. “We’ll coordinate the evacuation from the sky.”
Alice nodded, and stepped back.
“Be safe, honey,” spoke the chief, and unexpectedly drew her in for a tentative hug.
She swallowed uncomfortably. Hugging was not something her father believed in. In fact she couldn’t remember the last time he’d expressed his feelings so brazenly. “It’s all right, Dad,” she said softly.
He took her by the shoulders and eyed her seriously for a moment. “Take your mother and get her out of here as quickly as possible.”
She nodded quickly. “All right, Dad. I’ll get Mom.”
“I’ve called in the National Guard, and they should be here within the hour. Let’s just hope it won’t be too late.”
She kissed Reece goodbye, and hurried to the police station, where officers were getting into their patrol cars and driving off.
She watched as the chopper rose into the morning sky. She knew Reece would stay until the last possible minute, helping to save Happy Bays from this catastrophe, and her heart sank. Now that they’d finally found each other again, she might just lose him again.
But then Bell’s bakery van rolled to a stop beside her, and Felicity called out, “We need to get out of here, honey. Time to move.”
She rounded the van, and hopped in, and as the sturdy old vehicle peeled away from the lot, she took out her phone and started a new timer. One more hour before the plant blew. It was now six o’clock in the morning, and Happy Bays might not live to see another day.
She decided to ask her customary question. “So what’s the plan?”
“We’re picking up your mother, then my family, then getting as far away as possible!” replied Felicity.
It was a plan, she thought, but she also knew that sixty minutes didn’t give them much time to do anything. Now was not the time to consider the glass half empty though. As long as they were alive, they could save lives. And maybe someone somewhere could still stop this tragedy from unfolding. They needed a miracle. A real miracle.
Chapter 45
Adrian tapped a few keys on his laptop. He was holed up in his hotel room, overlooking Times Square, and had been furiously making some calculations since the money finally showed up in his account.
One million dollars. It had seemed like a lot of money when Roke first dangled the figure in front of him. And all he needed to do was destroy the lives of a few million people. He sat back and eyed the small timer. Sixty minutes and counting. It had been a wild ride, and now it was finally coming to a close. Only more thing needed to be done…
He picked up his phone, cleared his throat, and pressed a button.
Moments later, the raspy voice of Roke sounded in his ear and he steeled himself for the confrontation. He disliked the man intensely.
“Hello there, Mr. Roke. It’s me again. Adrian Calamus.”
“What do you want?”
It could be his imagination, but it appeared as if there was a distinct lack of exuberance in Glenn Roke’s speech.
“Well, the thing is… You remember how you told me about living the easy life for the rest of my days?”
“I remember.”
“I’ve been thinking, and calculating, and it seems to me like you made a mistake.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. One million dollars won’t buy me the life I want.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. So I’m thinking—”
“You want more.”
“Exactly! I knew you’d understand. According to my calculations another million or so should do the trick. Really afford me the kind of dream life I want.”
“Out of the question.”
“Come again?”
“Do you take me for a fool, Calamus?!”
“Well…”
“We made a deal!”
“I know, but I never considered things like inflation, the high cost of living, and you remember I told you about my grandfather? He lived to the ripe old age of ninety-three, so if I have his genes I will need a lot more than one million dollars to sustain myself in the years to come.”
“We agreed, Mr. Calamus. Now please don’t bother me again.”
This seemed rather abrupt. “I mean we should—”
“Please don’t pester me. Our business is concluded.”
He ground his teeth. This was it. “No, it’s not. Unless you send me an additional million, I’ll stop the countdown right now.”
He heard a sharp intake of breath. It seemed to be an aspect of the matter the other man hadn’t considered. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Oh, but I would. In a heartbeat.”
“Fine,” growled Roke.
“Fine. So when can I expect that additional mil?”
“Never!”
Adrian’s lips curved into a slight smile. He’d thought as much. “No sweat, Roke. Then I’ll just turn off that old timer, shall I?”
And with a few keystrokes he stopped the countdown, the timer stuck at forty-eight minutes.
A hacking laugh sounded from the other end. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you, Calamus? You never stopped to consider I can start that timer any time I choose, did you?”
“Huh. Is that right?”
“Go to hell, Calamus!”
And with these final words, the conversation was terminated. Adrian sighed deeply. That’s what you got from getting in bed with terrorists, he thought. They were a tough breed. Always tried the pull the rug right from under you. Oh, well.
He leaned back, a slow grin spreading across his features. At least he was one million dollars richer than before. He would keep a hundred thousand for his own expenses—and any possible legal fees this stunt would incur—and donate the rest to his favorite cause. And as he returned to his laptop, his fingers deftly working their magic, he started divvying up the funds.
Roke cursed under his breat
h. He’d hoped to see this matter through from a safe distance. He disliked being at the scene of his own crime, and he most certainly disliked being burned to a crisp.
Now he had no choice. He had to return to Happy Bays and reset the timer manually. If only Calamus hadn’t balked at the last minute and thrown a spanner in the works, this would have been over with in forty-five minutes.
Well, no matter. All Calamus had done was postpone the inevitable. Happy Bays would burn, and so would Ted MacDonald. And as he stepped into his car, heading back into Happy Bays, he quickly calculated it would take him about an hour to return, and another few minutes to set the charges. He cursed again. It was so hard to get good help these days. If you can’t even trust a bomber, what was the world coming to? At least that guy Jamie Mason had done his part by keeping him informed and by launching that rumor about a strike.
Unlike Calamus, the manager had been worth the money.
And he muttered the same lament employers throughout history have voiced: if you really want something done, better do it yourself.
Chapter 46
The chief had joined Reece in the chopper and they were flying low over Happy Bays, the police officer coordinating the evacuation procedure while Reece expertly handled the helicopter. It was one of a few skills he’d mastered since his break-out role in Hunk, a modern western. Chuck MacLachlan, the action hero he was most famous for, could handle a chopper as easily as he could an AK-47. And to make things look more real, Reece had put in the necessary hours and now handled the contraption with relative ease. He wasn’t exactly Harrison Ford or Travolta flying the planes, but he could hold his own.
As he looked down, he saw police cars patrolling the streets, urging the citizenry with word and gesture to leave home and hearth and flee Happy Bays for safer shores. Scores of cars were pulling out, putting as much distance between themselves and that power plant as quickly as humanly possible. Happy Bays was a small town but was still home to thousands, and they’d all been on the verge of starting another regular day when this calamity had befallen them.
News networks had also picked up the story, and so had neighboring towns. When the plant blew, the consequences would stretch far beyond Happy Bays. Nuclear fallout doesn’t respect town limits.
Reece found his eye trying to spot Bell’s Bakery & Tea Room, where Felicity would be bundling her family into the van to make their getaway, and his mind returned to the woman he loved. It was quite ironic, he felt, that he would be in the sky with Alice’s father right now, working together to ward off certain disaster.
He banked the chopper to the left, just as Chief Whitehouse instructed, and flew low over the houses around Reed Park, the heart of town. As everywhere, fleeing citizens left behind their worldly goods, bundled kids into their SUVs, and hauled ass.
He flew low over Bell’s Bakery & Tea Room, and watched how Felicity’s parents filed into the van. When Felicity heard the chopper, she looked up, and then suddenly Alice’s head popped from the van window, and she waved. He gave her a cheery wave back. A flush of heat settled in his chest, and he grinned.
Good thing Rufus had given him her location, or else she would still be on that cooling tower. And good thing he’d managed to convince the studio head to postpone the meeting, or else his career would now be in the tubes.
“You love her, don’t you?” a gruff voice sounded over the chopper intercom.
He looked over to the man beside him. “I do,” he admitted.
“What was all this nonsense about you and this Valour woman?” the chief wanted to know.
“All lies,” he assured the chief. “Nothing but lies concocted by Dorothy herself.”
“Thought as much,” the chief grunted. “I met her, remember?”
“Met her and locked her up in jail.”
The chief seemed to have a habit of locking up anyone and everyone. He’d even locked up Reece himself, for impersonating a police officer, then Dorothy for attacking Virgil. Well, she hadn’t actually attacked the policeman, merely grazed his chest with her finger trying to make a point.
“You should have kept her locked up,” he said, only half joking.
“I know,” the chief sighed, “but I couldn’t.” His regret seemed genuine. “Listen to me, Hudson,” he suddenly growled, like an irate bear, “if you put my daughter through any more of that nonsense—”
“I told you, it wasn’t me.”
“That’s what they all say. One more time,” he threatened, “and I’ll lock you up and throw away the key.”
He swallowed. He had the impression the man was serious. He might not be able to keep Dorothy Valour in jail, but he seemed determined to put in an extra effort for Reece.
“It won’t happen again,” he assured, realizing he sounded like a thirteen-year-old who’s just been caught smoking behind the church.
“It’d better not. Alice is a sweet-natured girl, and if you break her heart, I’ll break your neck.”
He muttered his acquiescence. He wasn’t going to break Alice’s heart. In fact he was going to do his utmost from now on to make her the happiest woman on the planet. It only seemed fair, for she’d made him the happiest man when she’d agreed they move in together.
“And another thing. Alice tells me she keeps finding your dirty underwear lying around. That true?”
He cringed. “Yes. About that—”
“Son, learn a thing or two from an old hand at this marriage thing. Don’t treat your woman like your maid. Treat her like your queen. Pick up after yourself. Don’t be a slob. Do the dishes, do the laundry, do whatever it takes to make her happy, you hear? It’s the secret to a long and happy life.”
“Yes, sir,” he said. It was a nasty habit, he knew, but he’d lived alone for a long time and before that he’d shacked up with a bunch of other guys for a while, and then before that it had just been him and Dad. The two men had a simple understanding. Once a week Dad trekked through the house with a big plastic bag to pick up all the laundry, stuffed it into the machine and started her up. Then Reece took it from there, dumping everything in the dryer and doing some cursory folding—the Hudsons didn’t believe in ironing.
Now that he was living with Alice—and Felicity and Rick—they hadn’t reached this kind of agreement. So he’d strewn his laundry around, as usual, fully expecting someone to pick it up, and then he would do the rest. Only before he ever could, the laundry was gone and done, and he just figured it was the way they liked things.
“I will do my utmost to make your daughter happy, sir,” he said softly. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“I’ll hold you to that, son. If not—”
“You’ll break my neck. Understood, sir.”
There was a grunt, like a bear who’s found the pot of honey, and the chief returned to the task at hand: saving Happy Bays from destruction.
Chapter 47
Roke directed his Mercedes through the throngs of people fleeing Happy Bays. He watched them grim-faced, and wished he’d simply thrown that bunch of nosy parkers from the cooling towers. It was obvious now that they’d managed to make good their escape, and had warned the town about the impending disaster. At least the place would become inhabitable for years to come. This was not something Ted MacDonald would be able to fix. And if the man survived, he would hunt him down and find another way to exact his revenge.
First things first, though. He needed to restart that damn timer.
It didn’t take him long to see the familiar towers looming up on the horizon, and he stepped on it, figuring the Happy Bays Police Department probably had other things on their mind than catching speedsters. He raced along the gravel drive that led up to the plant’s entrance, and cursed when the heavens suddenly opened up, and rain started to pelt down heavily.
It was as if even Mother Nature conspired against him.
He raced on, and reached the guard post in no time. The gate was open and the post deserted. The place was probably evacuate
d by now.
The car screeched to a stop in front of the entrance, and he hobbled inside. He’d always refused a cane, but now felt like he could have used one.
The place was deserted, which suited him fine. Calling that strike had been a stroke of genius. Everyone knew how eager people were to put down their tools, and it had been a great way to call off the inspection.
He limped along the deserted corridors until he reached the end, and descended into a remote part of the building, entering deeper and deeper into the bowels of the compound. This was where Calamus had set up the main controller for the detonators.
He reached a locker room for the workers, and passed beyond it, past the showers, and finally into a large room that was a maze of pipes and tubing leading into the belly of the beast. He took an immediate left, and followed a row of hot steam vents to the outer wall. There, obscured by a fake vent, Calamus had concealed the device. He lifted the vent and feasted his eyes on the small rectangular box set in a depressed section of the concrete floor.
He studied it for a moment, then flipped a switch, and watched the device come to life. He first disabled the remote, so Calamus wouldn’t be able to sabotage his plans again. Then he adjusted the timer, setting it at one hour, which should give him plenty of time to get away, and replaced the box in the floor.
He was a happy man when he lurched along the vast concrete maze, and had a hard time keeping inside a maniacal laughter that died to escape. If this was a Bond movie, James would be waiting for him, and they would slug it out for fifty-five minutes, then the debonair agent would find the device, and turn it off with only seconds to spare.
But this wasn’t a movie, and this plant would blow, no matter what.
As he awkwardly raced to his car, he turned to look over his shoulder, taking in the imposing structure one last time. The rain was really come down hard now, and as he suddenly faltered, he tripped, fell, and knocked his head against the hood of his car. With a soft whimper he crumpled to the ground, and lay there, knocked out cold.