“Anything?”
“Just the Sparrow’s typical morning routine.” Noticing that he was dressed and holding the equipment, she asked, “Where are you going?”
“Figured I’d take a look in those tunnels. See what I can make of them.”
Lucia gave him a heads up. “FYI—You’ll find my footprints—size nine—for the first few feet in the main tunnel and then in the path to the right. Once I saw that way branched out into multiple tunnels, I stopped.”
“Good job. Just keep an eye on Elizabeth and let me know if I’ve been compromised.” When she returned to her busy pecking on the keys, he asked, “What else are you up to?”
“Hacking the Silvershire DMV.”
“Why hack? We’re on the government payroll,” he began, but then he remembered Walker’s earlier concern about the Quiz and their source for information. “I get it. You don’t trust whomever we have to ask.”
“Too much leakage of vital details. If there’s a mole, I don’t want them knowing what we’re up to,” she confirmed.
He patted her on the back, but as he walked away, Lucia called out to him. He stopped, turned.
She seemed hesitant to speak. Unusual for the normally feisty operative. “You and the Sparrow. It’s just business, right? Because if it isn’t—”
A sharp slice of his hand silenced her. “The Sparrow or Elizabeth. So far, we’ve got lots of things linking them, but nothing definitive.”
“You’re right. But it’s hard to ignore everything we do have, isn’t it?”
Aidan agreed despite his unease. “I still want definitive, Lucia. I want to solve this case. I want it for Mitch.”
He didn’t add that he wanted it for himself, because he was too conflicted. But Lucia knew. She might specialize in talking to machines, but she had great people sense, as well.
“Just watch your back,” she noted.
“You help watch it for me.” He motioned to the monitors and with a wave, headed for Elizabeth’s cellar.
He had dressed in sweats. The gym bag he held contained assorted workout gear and the special surveillance equipment he had developed.
Elizabeth was in the front garden when he arrived, picking things from the garden, presumably herbs for what she would cook that day. He waved and called out, “Good morning.”
She walked over, examining him as she did so. “Working out?”
He pointed to the restaurant. “You did say we could use the equipment in the gym before the patrons arrived.”
“I did.” She nervously grasped and ungrasped the handles of her garden basket. “You were right yesterday,” she blurted out.
“Right? About what?”
“The police. I called them this morning and filed a report. Called the insurance company, as well. An adjuster is coming in a few days to check out the damage.”
Another decision that didn’t make sense if she was the Sparrow.
Then he remembered her words to him about how things could never be the same and tried to reassure her, to work his way into her confidence. “Once it’s fixed, it’ll be like new.”
“Right. Like new,” she repeated, although she was clearly not on board.
“Right. So, I’m heading to the cellar. Unless you need help with something.” Or unless you want to pick up where we left off on the bluff, he thought, wondering if that was possibly the way to the truth.
“No, no. I’m fine. I’ve got to decide on the day’s menu. Prep a few things,” she advised and turned toward the door.
He walked beside her and they entered the kitchen. It was empty, but she had clearly already been at work there. A number of bowls and items were laid out in anticipation of the day’s meals. Tomatoes, basil and other herbs, fresh picked from her garden. He could smell their aroma as soon as they entered the room.
When she headed to her prep table, he peeled off and rushed down the cellar stairs. Just to be convincing, he decided to start on the boxing bag first. Grabbing the wrist wraps from his gym bag, he wound them snugly around his hands and wrists, and then began his routine on the bag.
Punch after punch. An assortment of kicks that would send noise up to the kitchen above. He wanted to make sure Elizabeth was aware of what he was doing. Afterward, he unwound the wraps and tossed them beside the bag. Hitting the center of the mat, he did crunch after crunch. As he’d expected, the sudden drop in noise drew her attention.
From his prone position on the mat, he was able to see the door to the cellar open. Her feet—petite feet he made a point to note, thanks to Lucia’s earlier comment—were visible as were her toned calves, but not much else.
She was checking on him, and, seeming satisfied that he was up to just what he’d said, she closed the door.
Perfect. He quickly laid out some of the free weights on the mat, just in case she checked on him again. He needed to be able to grab one of the weights immediately as a cover. “Red Rover, I’m going in,” he advised.
“All’s clear. She’s working in the kitchen.”
He headed to the locker and with the combination Lucia had secured earlier, opened the lock and removed it.
Inside the locker it was much as he had expected. A sweatshirt and sneakers. He picked up the sneakers and noted the size—a six. A T-shirt lay tossed onto the floor above the sneakers. He held it up to his nose, but there was no scent. No fragrance.
Elizabeth didn’t wear any perfume, just the hand lotion. A hint of plumeria, Kate had said when he had bought the jar. A jar he’d passed on for chemical review with the evidence from the crime scene.
There was no hint of plumeria. Actually, there was just a fresh-laundered smell that said the shirt hadn’t been worn. He placed it back where he had got it, trying his best to rearrange it in the exact same position.
Leaning toward the back, he realized it would be a tight fit for him to go through the locker, unlike the Sparrow and Lucia, who were more petite. Tight, but doable.
The back of the locker appeared to be plain metal like any other gym locker. He ran his hands along the edges of the metal and down at the bottom right-hand corner, behind the sneakers and beneath the T-shirt, he discovered a tiny button, right where Lucia had told him it would be. Barely the size of a pencil eraser.
He pushed.
The back of the locker swung smoothly inward into the tunnel.
Here goes, he thought, and wedged himself through the space into the opening.
His shoulder scraped against the metal and once he was in the passageway, he had to crouch to walk. It had definitely not been intended for a man his size. But a woman a few inches shorter, like Elizabeth, would have no problem moving about the tunnels freely.
The passage had been carved out of the dirt some time ago. Well before Elizabeth’s time. Long-term water seepage had stained the walls a darker brown in spots or had calcified on them from mineral deposits. That might make the whole network of tunnels unstable. The tunnel was dimly lit by a series of light bulbs strung from wire at odd intervals along the earthen walls. There was enough light for him to see the footprints. Larger ones, likely Lucia’s, moving straight ahead. Interspersed with them, both coming and going, a much more diminutive set. Elizabeth’s? he wondered.
He bent and guesstimated the second set of footprints to be a size six, like the sneakers in the locker. For confirmation, he located two sets of prints adjacent to one another, laid down a coin for reference and snapped off a picture with his PDA.
Shoving the PDA into his pocket, he moved further into the tunnel. He heard a crackle in his ear and worried that he was losing the signal. “Red Rover. Copy, can you hear me?”
“Copy, Mixmaster. Not as strong as before though.”
Conscious of that, he crept forward until he was at the spot where the tunnel branched. As Lucia had mentioned, her prints were clear in the sand of the passage to the right. Since she had already gone that route only to find it led to multiple tunnels, he chose the path to the left.
Carefu
l not to compromise any evidence, he stepped cautiously, preserving the earlier footprints, hoping the Sparrow wouldn’t be looking for his. As he moved deeper into the earthen corridor, he once again hailed Lucia. “Red Rover. Copy, Red Rover.”
A snap, crackle and even a pop as she answered. “Barely…hear…you.” Her words were punctuated by static.
“Copy, Red Rover.” Up ahead, the path dipped downward, sloping lower below ground level. For sure the signal would be lost up ahead. He wondered how long he’d have to explore before Elizabeth would check on what he was up to in the cellar again. Without the connection to Lucia, he risked discovery…
“You may lose me in a moment,” he advised and plowed forward, needing to determine what was up ahead. Where the tunnel led.
Nothing but earthen walls and bare bulbs. It was cooler though and for a moment he thought he heard something. He closed his eyes to eliminate any extraneous sensation from interrupting.
The ocean—it sounded like he was stuck in the middle of a giant shell. Another noise. The scuffle of a shoe?
He held his breath and there it was again. Louder. Definitely a footfall in the tunnel ahead of him. Elizabeth?
No word from Lucia, but then again, maybe he had finally lost her signal. And if he could hear the Sparrow’s footsteps, he had to remain silent.
He held his breath and slowly inched back a yard or so toward a spot in the tunnel where a jagged outcropping of rock sprang from the earthen wall. Not very large, but enough for him to partially hide behind it. As he tucked himself tight to the outcropping, a faint and incontinuous signal came across his wire.
“…move…lost…beach,” was all he could make out, and he tried to fill in the blanks.
The Sparrow was on the move and I lost her on the beach.
The beach being possibly straight down the passageway judging from the sound of the sea. He waited and listened for yet another footstep.
Nothing. Had the Sparrow realized he was there and run?
He cursed again beneath his breath. If he forged ahead, he might smack straight into her and if he did…
Proof positive that Elizabeth was the elusive assassin?
He didn’t want to guess at why that thought now bothered him.
Another crackle of static and some scattered words pierced his ear. “Back…cellar…hurry…”
With a frustrated sigh, Aidan made the call and turned.
A sudden blur of movement caught his eye, but before he could register who or what it was, blinding pain smacked him in the middle of his solar plexus, doubling him up. It was immediately followed by a hard, swift kick to his head.
The force of that sent him flying against the wall, where his head connected roughly. As he dropped to the ground and his gaze darkened, all he could see before him were a pair of feet. Petite women’s feet encased in running shoes.
Then everything went black.
“Aidan? Aidan?” Elizabeth repeated and wiped the damp towel over his forehead and the side of his face.
His eyelids flickered for a moment, and then he was instantly alert and in action.
He grabbed hold of her hands and shoved her down hard onto the mat, pinning her there with his greater force and strength. “What did you do to me?”
“What the hell’s the matter with you?” she said and pushed at him, trying to loosen his grip.
He seemed disoriented for a second, looking around the cellar as if thinking he was elsewhere. When he realized where he was, he released her and sat back onto the mat, a puzzled look on his face.
Natalie came running down the cellar stairs at that moment, a bag filled with ice in her hand. “Here it is, Lizzy,” she said and stopped short as she realized something was up.
Elizabeth rose from the mat, walked over to Natalie and took the bag of ice. She approached Aidan, who was looking a little dazed, probably from the blow that had put the bruise on the side of his face.
Not wanting to risk that in his current state he would take her down again, she paused well before reaching him and held out the ice bag. “Here. This might help.”
Confusion reigned on his face again, finally forcing her to kneel before him and place the ice bag gently above the injury. He winced as she did so and roughly asked, “What the hell happened?”
She shrugged and Natalie piped in from behind her. “When you didn’t come up for a while, Lizzy came down to see what you were doing.”
“You were lying on the mat with one of the free weights beside you,” she said and motioned to the equipment off to the side of the mat. “You were out cold, so I ran up to get some damp towels and asked Natalie to make an ice bag.”
“Oh,” he said and grasped the ice bag from her hand. As he held it to the injury, he winced again.
“Do you need to see a doctor?” she asked and Natalie broke into the conversation once more.
“You’re not going to sue, right? After all, it was your fault the weights hit you,” she said nervously, clearly concerned on her employer’s behalf.
Elizabeth gritted her teeth. She knew Natalie meant well, but she wasn’t helping the situation at all. While still kneeling before Aidan, she said, “Nat. Aidan is not going to sue—”
“You know how litigious these Americans are,” her friend worried out loud, wringing her hands like an anxious old maid.
If it wasn’t so serious, it would be laughable, Elizabeth thought. Trying to calm her assistant, she gave Natalie instructions that would remove her from the cellar. “Please finish up the prep work while I see to Aidan. I’ll be up shortly.”
Natalie seemed about to argue with her, but Aidan clinched it with, “I’m not going to sue. It was an accident. I think the weight slipped from my hand.”
With that, Natalie scurried up the stairs, leaving the two of them alone.
She examined him again, reached out and eased the ice bag from the side of his face to take another peek. “There’s a bruise already.”
Aidan wanted to say, “Well, hello, duh. You kicked the shit out of me,” but her look of concern was so real, it was hard to imagine she could fake it. “I’ll be fine,” he reassured, although a whopper of a headache was rapidly growing behind his eyes.
She dropped her hands to her thighs and rubbed them there nervously. “You scared me. I thought you were really hurt.”
Again, apprehension, seemingly real and unpracticed, flashed across her face on his behalf. “I’m fine. And I know you have to get to work. I’m going to head back to my place to rest.”
“That’s not a good idea. You were out for a while. You could have a concussion.”
She was probably right, because he was sure that at any moment, his head might split open. When he moved it too quickly, nausea set in along with a wave of dizziness. “So what do you propose, Lizzy?”
“Let’s get you to the cottage. You can sack out there so I can check on you.” As she said that, she slipped an arm beneath his shoulder, helped him to rise and then to navigate the stairs.
He appreciated her assistance, especially since his knees were wobbly. If it hadn’t been for her support, he might not have made it to the ground floor. By the time they reached the door to the cottage, a fine cold sweat had erupted on his skin.
She must either have seen or sensed his discomfort since she asked, “Are you okay?”
“I need to sit down.” No lie on his part. He worried he might keel over at any second.
She helped him to the sofa where she urged him to lie down and adjusted the pillows beneath his head until he was comfortable. When she examined him again, she said, “You look pale.”
He wanted to upchuck, but manly man that he was, he forced it down. “Fine,” was all he could manage, and he closed his eyes, hoping to make it clear that the one thing he wanted was to be left alone.
He sensed her continued presence by his side for a moment before she finally left.
Normally, he would have taken advantage of the opportunity to investigate the cottage
at his leisure. Only now, he wasn’t up to it.
And come to think of it, he hadn’t heard a peep of any kind from Lucia. Reaching up to his ear, which was the side of his head that had taken the initial brunt of the kick, he dislodged the earpiece. It had tightly jammed into his ear canal from the force of the blow. It had also been accidentally shut off. Powering it back up, he slipped it into his ear and said, “Copy, Red Rover.”
Chapter 15
Aidan maintained his prone position on the couch, his head pounding too badly to consider moving right at that moment. Even the slight crackle from the earpiece seemed overly loud as he waited for a response from Lucia. While he lay there, he recalled Elizabeth’s concern for him. It troubled him. Had it been his imagination, or had he seen caring on her expressive face before he had closed his eyes against the pain? Could she be that good an actress?
He cursed under his breath as Lucia’s voice finally came across the earpiece, too loudly. Pain stabbed through his temples from the sound of it. “What happened, Blender Boy?”
He wished he knew. He had no explanation for how Elizabeth had managed to elude him in the tunnel, nor how it was possible that Natalie thought Elizabeth had been with her in the kitchen the whole time.
Maybe because it was someone else who nearly took your head off?
“I don’t know what happened. I heard someone and then they knocked me out.”
“You should return to base,” Lucia suggested, dragging a harsh chuckle from him.
“If I could, I would. Did you see anything?” He tried to keep his tone neutral, but even he could hear the pain and annoyance behind his words.
“Nothing. Someone jammed the signal,” Lucia replied.
Damn. That was not so good, he thought and again it occurred to him that it would have been difficult for Elizabeth to do the jamming. It would take some sophisticated equipment and software to break into the encrypted signal and decode it. Not to mention jam it—or worse—listen in. Hopefully they weren’t jacked into their current transmissions. For the moment, he had no way of knowing, however.
More Than a Mission Page 11