Black Canyon Conspiracy

by Cindi Myers

  “No, uh, just hanging out.” Inwardly, she cringed. How lame did she sound?

  “I know what you mean, dude.” He settled in beside her, leaning against the wall in the darkness. “Sometimes you just have to get away from the grind. I mean, I believe in the mission and everything, but these guys never let up for a minute.”

  What is your mission? She wanted to ask but knew she couldn’t. She should find another way to get the information out of him. “When I signed up, I didn’t expect there to be so much work,” she said.

  “Tell me about it. I mean, I came out here expecting them to teach me about shooting and making bombs and all that. Instead, they got us spending days memorizing maps and laws and studying history. If I’d have wanted to waste my time on history classes, I’d have stayed in college.”

  “History is the worst,” Lauren said. History of what? “What was the name of that guy? The one they went on and on about?”

  “You mean that von Manstein guy—Hitler’s military strategist? Don’t these guys remember Hitler lost? I mean, he was right about a lot of things, but I don’t think learning his strategy is going to help us now. We’ve got better weapons and intelligence and everything.”

  Hitler? So that swastika was for real? “When do you think we’re going to get to do something besides drill and go to class?” she asked.

  “Nobody will tell us the exact date, but I figure we’re getting close. And it’s not one mission, right? It’s a bunch. Like, one group’s going to go after transportation and somebody else is going to take out communication. It’s going to be chaos.” His voice rose, excited. “I mean, it’s going to be amazing. People won’t know what hit them.”

  “Yeah. Amazing.” Lauren felt sick to her stomach. Marco was right. These people were terrorists. They wanted to destroy and kill.

  She glanced toward the door to the kitchen. What was taking Marco so long? And what would happen if he came out and the kid was still there?

  “What’s up with you?” the young man demanded. “Why are you so jumpy?”

  “Oh, I...I just saw one of the officers go in there. I didn’t want him to come out and catch me goofing off.”

  “One of them is in the kitchen?” Her companion laughed. “What, he wanted a midnight snack? Of the pig swill they feed us?”

  “Aren’t you worried what he’ll do if he comes out and finds you?” she asked.

  “These old blowhards don’t scare me. They like to talk a lot, but they want us to do all the work—take all the risks while they get all the glory. This close to the mission they can’t afford to cross any of us in case we go running to the authorities and screw up all their plans.”

  “You wouldn’t do that, would you?” she asked. “Run to the authorities?”

  “No way! The authorities are the ones I want to stick it to. But the officers are authorities, too, right? And they don’t know what’s going on in my head. So I can use that to my advantage.” He tapped the side of his head with his forefinger. “I may not look it, but I’m smart. I’ve got an IQ of one-sixty.”

  “You don’t seem that smart to me, soldier,” Marco said from behind them. Before the young man had time to react, Marco put the blade of a large butcher knife to his throat.

  Eyes wide, the young man made incoherent choking noises. Lauren was almost as terrified. How had Marco slipped up that way without her seeing him? And what was he going to do with that knife?

  What he did was remove the blade from the young man’s throat and step back. “What’s your name?” he demanded.

  “Robinson, sir.” Robinson brought his hand up in a sharp salute. “Bradley Robinson, Company Two, sir.”

  “If I had been an enemy, you would be dead right now, Robinson.” Marco didn’t look at Lauren, all his attention focused on the young soldier, whose face was still blanched white. Marco’s stern expression, erect posture and air of command almost had Lauren believing he was one of the camp officers.

  “Yes, sir. Dead, sir,” Robinson repeated.

  “Instead, tomorrow at eighteen hundred hours you will report to headquarters, where you will have a chance to redeem yourself by volunteering for a special assignment,” Marco said. “You are to tell no one about this.”

  “Yes, sir. What is the assignment, sir?”

  “You will find out tomorrow. Now go, before I decide to punish you further.”

  “Yes, sir.” Robinson turned and ran.

  When she was sure the young man had left them, Lauren moved closer to Marco. “You even frightened me,” she said. “When you stepped out of the shadows with that knife.”

  He tucked the knife into the plastic bag she now noticed he carried. “I wouldn’t have killed him unless I had to,” he said. “It was better to frighten him into silence.”

  She glanced in the direction Robinson had run. “Do you think he will keep quiet?”

  “He doesn’t know my name. He was so terrified he probably can’t even remember what I look like. He won’t say anything.”

  She could believe that. Marco had been terrifying. She’d known he was a strong man, not given to showing emotion, but seeing him as he’d been tonight, so cold, ruthless even, reminded her there was so much about him she didn’t know or understand. “What happens tomorrow evening when he reports to headquarters?” she asked.

  “If things go our way, by tomorrow evening this camp will be gone, and everyone in it arrested.”

  “I found out some of what they’re doing here,” she said. “You were right—this is a terrorist camp. Robertson told me they’ve been studying Nazi military history and that they’ve targeted transportation and communication.”

  “Food isn’t the only thing they’re cooking in that kitchen,” Marco said. “They’ve got ingredients for significant explosives.”

  She wanted to ask what he’d done with the man they’d seen peeling potatoes, but maybe it was better if she didn’t know. “Did you get any food?” Her stomach growled and suddenly she felt weak and shaky.

  “Drink this first.” He handed her a water bottle. “Then eat this.” She drained half the bottle in a few gulps, only strong willpower keeping her from moaning at the sheer joy of quenching her thirst. The protein bar he’d handed her was small and dry, but it was as welcome as any meal she’d ever eaten.

  “Oh, my gosh, I feel so much better,” she said. Maybe part of the shakiness and terror she’d felt had merely been a lack of food and water. She was doubly grateful for the clean water to help wash down her medication. All these necessities taken care of, she looked around. The camp was much quieter now, as if everyone but a few guards had gone to bed. “Can we leave now?”

  “There’s one more place we need to visit,” he said.

  “Where’s that?” Didn’t they have everything they’d come here to get—food, water and information?

  “Headquarters. I want to get a look at any plans they have, and see if they have a sat phone.”

  “Didn’t you get a phone off that first soldier?” The one he’d killed.

  “It’s a regular cell phone. It doesn’t work out here where there are no towers. If I can get hold of a satellite phone, I can call Graham and get him to work on sending a force out here to bust this place open. They’re probably already looking for us, but this place is so well hidden, they might need some help finding it.”

  “Won’t there be guards at headquarters? And more people—maybe even people working?”

  “Yes, but my guess is they’ve been here long enough to be growing complacent. From the looks of things—the permanent structures and worn paths—it appears they’ve been here several months at least. No one’s bothered them in that time, so they’re feeling a little invincible.”

  But we’re not invincible, she thought, but didn’t give voice to the words. She wouldn’t succeed in dissuading Marco anyway. Besides, she knew he was right. They had to get word to someone as quickly as possible. For all they knew, the mission—whatever it entailed—would take place
within a few days, or even a few hours. They had to find a way to stop that from happening.

  She drained the rest of the water. “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

  “Let’s find the headquarters building first.”

  The command center was easy enough to locate, since it was the area with the most activity and people, even at this late hour. People were bustling about as if it was the middle of the day, instead of well after midnight. Marco and Lauren stopped in the shadows a short distance away and studied the large Quonset hut with a row of lighted windows along one side and an armed sentry stationed at the entrance.

  “Even if we managed to get past that guard, there are too many people around for us to sneak in and steal a phone,” she said. “Someone would shoot us before we’d gone five yards.”

  “We could create a distraction,” he said. “Something that would draw away most of the personnel. We could overpower the remaining guards, grab the phone and get out.”

  “As soon as they realize there’s no emergency, the whole camp will be on us like a swarm of ants,” she said. “It’s not as if we can have a getaway car waiting for us.”

  “What about a getaway ATV?” He indicated the side-by-side all-terrain vehicle parked beside the headquarters building, the keys conveniently still in the ignition.

  “That won’t get us away from here fast enough,” she said. “Especially if they have Jeeps or another four-wheel drive automobile.”

  “Still, if we get separated, head for that and take off as fast as you can,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I couldn’t leave you behind.”

  He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I can look after myself,” he said, his expression just as stern as when he’d spoken to the soldier. “Promise me you’ll do it.”

  She shook out of his grasp. “No. I won’t promise that. And I’m not some scared recruit, so don’t think you can order me around.”

  The sternness left his face, revealing a sadness that weakened her resolve in a way that bravado never could. “I’m not worth it, you know,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You saw me back there. I didn’t hesitate to kill a man. It’s how I’m wired.”

  She would never forget how quickly he’d silenced that lone man. “You didn’t murder him for fun,” she said. “There’s a difference. I know that.”

  “You’re a good person,” he said. “You have enough to deal with in your life without adding someone like me.”

  Now she was the one who needed to be stern. “I get to decide that. Not you.”

  He frowned. “Then, you’d better decide to look after yourself first. If things get hairy in there, I want you to run and not look back.”

  Maybe she would do exactly that, if it came down to it, but she wanted to believe she was better than that, that she would never abandon him. She hoped she wouldn’t have to find out. “So we’re really going in?” she asked.

  “We have to.”

  “We could leave now and walk to where you could get a signal for that cell phone.”

  “That could take a day or more. By then it could be too late.”

  She bit her lower lip. He was right, of course. “I guess if we’re talking about saving the country, I shouldn’t worry so much about myself,” she said.

  “I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe, but this is bigger than both of us.”

  She nodded. “All right. But I think the distraction idea is too risky.”

  He looked at the headquarters building again. The door was closed now, but the guard still stood in front of it, rifle at the ready. Through the row of windows, they could see people working at desks or milling around conference tables. “I don’t have a better plan.”

  “What if, instead of trying to sneak in, you walked in boldly?” she said. “Act like an officer and demand to use the phone.”

  “The camp isn’t that large. They’d know I wasn’t an officer. And what are you going to do while I’m in there?”

  “Tell them you’re a special envoy, and I’m you’re aide.”

  “An envoy?”

  She took a deep breath. This was either the best idea she’d ever had, or the craziest. “Tell them Richard Prentice sent you.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Marco stared, unsure he’d heard Lauren correctly. “Do you know for sure Richard Prentice is involved with this?” he asked.

  “No. But like you said before, it’s a good possibility,” she said. “If he is, the mention of his name is going to carry some weight. If he isn’t, you’ll still throw them off guard. They’ll be trying to figure out who Prentice is and why you’re there. If nothing else, they’ll believe you’re crazy and unstable, and we could use that to our advantage.”

  He’d learned a lot about risk assessment in various training classes—how to determine the likelihood of success in an operation, and when the desired outcome was worth the degree of risk involved. By any measure, Lauren’s plan was a bad idea. There were too many unknowns—Prentice might have nothing to do with this operation, or if he did, they might not know him by that name. Worse still, the man himself might be inside that headquarters building. He’d made a habit of distancing himself from any direct involvement in his operations, but anything was possible.

  “I’m sorry. I never should have suggested it. It’s too risky,” Lauren said. “I can’t ask you to do that. Forget I mentioned it.”

  “We’ll do it,” he said.

  “What? No, it’s too risky. It was a crazy idea.” She put a hand to her temple. “I’m tired, and not eating has my medication all off. Don’t listen to me.”

  “No, it was a brilliant idea.”

  “No, it’s too dangerous.”

  “It is dangerous. But at this point, I don’t think we have a choice.” He nodded toward the building. “All the activity in there tells me something big is going down, and soon. We have to stop it before a lot of lives are lost.”

  Two of those lives might be their own, but he didn’t have to say the words out loud. He saw the acceptance of that reality in her eyes. But she pushed the fear away and nodded. “All right. Tell me what to do.”

  He hefted the plastic bag with the food, water and knife. “We need to hide this.”

  “We can stash it in those bushes.” She indicated a clump of scrub oak near where they were standing.

  He brushed off his shirt and straightened the crease in his trousers, then eyed her critically. “You need a little more spit and polish if you’re going to pass for an aide,” he said. “Tuck in your shirt and cuff the trousers.”

  She did as he asked; unfortunately, tucking the shirt only emphasized her curves. He frowned. “That’s not going to work.” He tugged at the fabric. “Maybe you can blouse it out a little.”

  She grabbed his arms and stood on tiptoe to kiss him fiercely. He returned the kiss, pulling her tightly into his arms and crushing her to him. Despite all his vows to distance himself from her, he needed her now more than ever—he needed her courage and her faith in him. He needed her belief, however misguided, that he was this honorable and worthy man, one who deserved the love she so freely gave.

  After a long moment, they pulled apart. He continued tugging at her shirt, avoiding looking into her eyes. When he felt more in control of his emotions, he stood back and eyed her critically. “Stick to the shadows as much as you can,” he said. “I’ll do my best to keep all eyes on me.”

  “They’ll be shaking in their shoes.” She smoothed her hands down his arms, then stepped back. “Are we ready to do this?”

  “Let’s do it.”

  * * *

  LAUREN COULD FEEL the stares of the men around them as she followed Marco up the walkway to the headquarters building. They were ten feet from the door when the guard stepped out. “Halt!” he commanded.

  “At ease, soldier.” Once again, Marco had transformed himself into the arrogant, authoritative commander, prepared to mete
out punishment to any who crossed him. “Special envoy Henry Hoffman here to see your commander.”

  The guard hesitated. Up close, he proved to be cut from the same mold as the men who’d watched over her at Prentice’s mansion—young, muscular and not necessarily bright. Men programmed to follow orders. “What’s the password, sir?” he asked.

  “The password is your head on a plate if you don’t take me to your commander, immediately.”

  The sharpness of the words made Lauren flinch, and the soldier paled. “Commander Carroll isn’t to be disturbed,” he said.

  “You’d better disturb him for me,” Marco said. “The success or failure of our entire mission rests on the intelligence I’ve been charged with conveying to him.”

  “Y-yes, sir.” The soldier backed toward the door and opened it two inches. “Captain Peterson,” he called. “Someone here to see the commander.”

  A second soldier stepped out to meet them. A little older than the first, and not as beefy, he nevertheless had a shrewd look of intelligence. “The commander has given orders he’s not to be disturbed,” he said, eyeing Marco suspiciously.

  “He’s a special envoy,” the guard said.

  “Envoy from whom?” the second man asked.

  “I have vital intelligence to share with Commander Carroll,” Marco said.

  “Envoy from whom?” the second man asked again, his voice more strident.

  Marco fixed him with a look Lauren was sure could have frozen water. Here was the moment of no return, when their ruse either worked or fell apart. “From Mr. Prentice,” he said.

  Freckles stood out in relief against the second man’s suddenly paper-white skin. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. “Come with me,” he said after he’d regained his composure. Not waiting for an answer, he turned and led the way through the door.

  Marco followed, Lauren close behind him. She kept her head ducked, trying to make herself invisible. But they hadn’t gone three steps before their escort turned and fixed her with his scrutiny. “Who is this?”

  “This is my aide. Hugo.”

  She kept her head down, staring at her shoes. Hugo? That was the best he could come up with? Was it because he thought she had a huge bottom? She fought back a nervous giggle. Definitely time to adjust her meds.