Ellis fell quiet. The main disadvantage of the secrecy of their department; they were left mostly with cover stories. He hadn’t yet thought of one to answer why he should suspect one brother more than the other.
Cohburn sighed. ‘Look. You got a hard-on for some reason for Alex Culverton – then you're gonna have to do it on your own resources. Right now we got our hands full probing John's ass.’
Ryan’s meeting with his father, Rob, was arranged at a downtown New York hotel foyer.
His father had flown in from Atlanta and they’d chosen a hotel close to Grand Central because it was the station for Ryan’s train from Cedar Falls. There were about thirty other people in the foyer, mostly close to the entrance and by the reception desk. Their table at the far end was away from the main throng.
Rob Lorimar thanked the waiter as he set down their coffees, then looked across the table. ‘Any plans yet for next month's Memorial Day weekend?’
‘No. None that I know of.’ He shrugged. ‘I suppose if the weather’s good, Jackie and Caz might come round for a barbie.’
‘No plans to go anywhere, though?’
‘No. Don’t think so.’
‘Remember how we always used to head off in the Winnebago somewhere, and we'd...’
His father’s voice trailed off then; perhaps realizing that a reminder of past, happier times wasn’t the best right now. But the last thing Ryan wanted was his father to feel awkward about reminiscing. He smiled warmly.
‘Yeah – I remember.’
Rob nodded. ‘Anyway... what I was swinging round to was maybe you could come down to see me in Atlanta then. That is, if your mom's okay with it.’
‘Yeah, yeah. Sounds like a plan. I'll ask her.’
Rob was thoughtful as he took a sip of his coffee, the silence awkward for a moment. ‘But no new partners yet for your mom?’
Ryan looked challengingly at his dad. ‘I could tell you – but then I'd have to kill you.’ He smiled crookedly. ‘Well, no. None that I know of.’
Rob smiled back at the joshing. But then his expression quickly fell. More serious.
‘You okay after that cafe incident last week?’
‘Yeah... yeah. No scars. See?’ He held his arms out. ‘At least none visible.’
His father’s gaze stayed on him steadily. But Ryan didn't feel in the mood to go into detail. He looked away for a moment across the foyer.
The monitoring van was parked sixty yards from the hotel entrance, its two operatives inside surveying a bank of screens. They honed in one screen as a limousine pulled up in front of the hotel.
They watched as Alex Culverton got out the limousine shadowed by Coby and a half-Samoan bodyguard, Rami.
Ten yards behind was another limousine. Three men get out, though they were unknown to the van operatives. As the lead man, mid-fifties, grey-haired, stepped forward and shook hands with Alex Culverton, that same view appeared on Aaron Green’s screen with Ellis Kendell looking over his shoulder.
They were on a direct feed from the hotel-front monitoring van.
‘See what you can pull up on that new face,’ Ellis remarked.
Aaron zoomed in on the grey-haired man, tapped his keyboard.
‘Okay. Running through now...’
Ryan and his dad looked round briefly at the entourage taking seats at the other end of the foyer; although Alex Culverton was mostly shielded by the rest of the group.
‘You know, despite our problems, that I still care about your mom?’
‘Yeah, I know.’
Rob took a sip of his coffee, gave a strained smile. ‘Still like to know how she's doing. That she's okay.’
Ryan meets his father's gaze steadily. It couldn’t be easy for his father. Trying to express the sweet and sour pain of the split; especially in the limited time they’d had together since.
‘I know.’
Aaron brought up a photo-fit alongside the cam-shot and scrolled down the details beneath as Ellis looked over his shoulder.
‘Bruno Teischen. Fifty-four. Arms dealer. Made his first money supplying both sides in the Bosnian war. Since then he's gone more global: Chad, Kosovo, Nicaragua, Rwanda.’
‘What category?’ Ellis enquired.
‘Nothing on VICAP. Category 6 with CIA and NSA. High risk.’
‘Okay. Let's find out why.’
Behind them the room was still busily sifting through numerous street-cam videos. As Ellis left Aaron's desk, Josh Eskovitz grabbed his attention.
‘You know that girl we viewed on a Pittsfield cam three days back?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, she's suddenly disappeared.’ Josh’s expression was taut. ‘Parents haven't seen her, no show at school, no contact. Nothing.’
Ellis's brow knitted. ‘Hopefully she's just gone AWOL with a new boyfriend and will show again in a day or two.’
‘Hopefully. But now we've got a fresh problem: we've found another girl in nearby Williamstown.
Bruno Teischen sat back in the foyer leather chair, pensive.
‘Looks like you've put some thought into this. Supply one side to increase demand the other. You obviously know how I like working.’
Alex smiled thinly. ‘Like you say: I've put some thought into this.’
‘But what about your father? After that last Senate Committee hearing, I thought he'd agreed not to deal with certain nations?’
‘Don't worry about my father. He's not too well right now. He'll be handing over the reins soon.’
‘Yes. But wouldn't that normally be to your older brother, John?’ Teischen held a palm out. ‘And he'd likely follow more your father's line.’
‘Don't worry about my brother either. Right now he's under investigation over the Andrew's air crash. My father will be forced to sideline him...’
Alex leant forward as he filled in the details.
Rob Lorimar looked back across the table at Ryan. ‘So – don't forget to check with your mom about maybe coming down to Atlanta.’
‘No, I won't. And maybe you can hire a Winnebago while I'm down too – relive some of the old times.’
Rob took a second to catch on that his son was ribbing. He chuckled. ‘Glad I'm not the only one a sucker for nostalgia. Otherwise might make me feel –’ Rob mulled his mouth with feigned distaste. ‘ –old.
But Ryan had half switched-off as for the first time he got a clear view of Alex Culverton across the foyer, and saw something he’d hoped not to see again: a misty apparition swirling inside Culverton: half-angel, half-demon, along with a cacophony of garbled voices.
The demon's eyes shifted to lock on him – and a second later the man stared at him directly too, brow creasing.
The man muttered something to two men with him, and Ryan’s heart leapt into his mouth as they looked his way and started towards him.
Ryan gripped his father's arm, who turned as Ryan hastily back-stepped.
The men moved with more purpose, and Rob Lorimer got up to block them, one hand held out.
‘Hey – what the hell you doing?’
Coby barged him aside as Rami alongside pulled his gun.
Ryan ran.
SEVEN
...To the far side of the foyer and through to the adjoining restaurant.
Ryan looked back halfway across the restaurant, hoping that its tightly grouped tables and the fact that it was busy might deter the two men from following. But they were in full flight in pursuit: a diner who got in the way was pushed aside, another table toppled over with a crash of cutlery.
Startled protests and shouts arose, but the two men seemed oblivious.
Ryan ran on int0 the kitchen. Hectic and noisy. Copious billows of steam rising, the clatter of pans and the frantic shouts between chefs and sous chefs were now directed at him.
He ignored them, weaved past one waiter lifting a tray and a sous-chef juggling a pan over a high flame. One chef decided to be more vocal and obstructive as the two men chasing him burst into the kitchen.
> ‘What in hell!’ He stood directly in their path, brandishing a heavy skillet. ‘You can’t just –’
As Ryan saw him floored with a gun butt to the side of his face by the second man, no doubt remained to Ryan that he was running for his life.
He burst out through a back door and into a side alley, picking up stride as fast as he could.
He ran past a delivery truck, one man by it’s tailgate checking off on a clipboard as another two unloaded cartons of shellfish.
Already his breath falling short, he glanced back as he heard the back door open sixty yards behind him.
The second man went to level his gun, but the first man stayed his arm – perhaps considering it too tight with the men unloading the truck in-between.
The first man took out his cell-phone.
In front of the hotel, the chauffeur sat in Coby’s limousine took the call from Coby.
‘Yeah... yeah. Teen kid, you say. Blue top... brown hair.’
‘Yeah. Unlikely he’ll run back your direction – unless we’re lucky. So you’ll probably see him along the road from you or in one of the side alleys. Shouldn’t be too hard to spot – because he’ll be the only kid running like crazy.’
‘Okay. Got yer.’
The chauffeur swung the limousine out into the traffic, a couple of horns blaring sharply from behind.
Ryan ran out into the main street, bustling with shoppers and office workers. He had to bob and weave as he sprinted furiously to avoid bumping into people.
The two goons chasing him were less observant as they came on to the same street. People were barged or pushed aside, others side-stepped or kept a wide berth when they saw a gun.
Ryan glanced back briefly before ducking into the next side street, then after twenty yards ran into another service alley on his right. Hopefully they’d be confused as to which way he’d gone.
Coby and Rami came alongside the alley and paused, listening out.
Another alley was ten yards down on the same side. Picking up the sound of running footsteps after a second, they turned and ran towards it.
Ryan turned into another alley thirty yards along, and was only halfway down it when he heard the bang.
His breath catching in his throat, he looked frantically behind: a cleaner emptying trash into a dumpster.
He sprinted on, and had almost reached the end of the alley when he heard another bang. He would have looked back towards the dumpster, but the bullet zinging and lifting brick dust off the wall close by told him what had happened: his pursuers had entered the same alleyway.
He ducked quickly round the corner as the gun was levelled for a second shot.
Ryan became frantic. He ran out into a wider side street at the alley-end, then chose one of two alleys opposite and turned sharp right into another service alley.
His breath was ragged, and he paused for a second to catch it back. He hoped his sudden dog-leg switch in direction had lost them, and looked keenly back: no sign of them. No sound of running footsteps either.
He picked up stride again just in case – when something ahead suddenly stopped him in his tracks. A limousine drifting slowly past the alley end, its driver peering sharply down.
Ryan ducked in quickly behind a van to one side, praying he hadn’t been seen. He could see the end of the limousine hood, hear its engine idling.
The driver stayed there for all of ten seconds, though it felt like a lifetime, then continued on. Ryan pulled back fully out of sight as it drifted past.
He’d unconsciously been holding his breath, and finally eased it out again when the limousine had gone fully from sight.
But short-lived. He sucked his breath back in sharply again as he heard footsteps approaching the other end of the alley.
Frozen, breath held, his attention was fixed so keenly towards the alley end – he didn't notice the van doors opening behind him and the man leaping out until it was too late.
He caught only a blur of movement and managed only a half gasp before the cloth was clamped hard over his mouth.
Darkness.
EIGHT
Ellis Kendell looked at the frozen cam image as Josh Eskovitz pointed to the screen.
‘Same triangulation area as the other two girls. And not too different looks-wise, either.’
Ellis nodded. Similar blonde hair, though a slightly darker corn-shade. And this girl looked a good year or so younger; no more than sixteen.
As Josh released the frozen image, the opaque light refraction was more evident in her eyes for a second, until she turned to look at her two friends by a car. Josh grimaced tautly.
‘Given recent activity in that area, reckon we should fast-track this one?’
Ellis closed his eyes for a second. He nodded slowly, solemnly.
‘Yeah. Reckon we should. And pray that we're wrong.’ He studied the girl again: smiling as she talked to her two friends, carefree; totally unaware of what might soon happen to her. ‘And that if we're not, we're not already too late.’
Jessica Werner was with Denise and another friend, Tasha, as they left the shops. Tasha was two years older, a posy platinum-blonde.
Tasha pressed the remote to put the roof down on her ice-blue Mercedes cabriolet, then swung her three shopping bags into its back seat.
‘You'd think for a birthday present he'd make sure to get it right.’ Tasha rolled her eyes. ‘I told him clear: lavender blue Kompressor... lavender blue. Not steel blue.’ No hint of irony in her complaint; she was seriously miffed. She waved a hand with lavender blue nails. ‘Man, my dad can be such a dork at times. I told him straight: I'm not keeping it.’
‘I'm sure he meant well.’ Jessica offered a cramped smile. ‘Like they say – it's the thought that counts.’
‘Yeah, and that's what happens whenever my dad thinks: he screws up.’
Denise shook her head. ‘I know – 'thinking'. Whatever's the world coming to?’
Jessica bit back a smile. But the sarcasm had obviously gone over Tasha's head. She checked her Cartier watch and got into her car, fired its engine up.
‘Oh, better rush. My PT's due at my place now.’ She smiled slyly as she backed out. ‘You should check him out. He's a hunk....’
A gold-bangled arm was waved their direction as Tasha zoomed off. Jessica and Denise looked pensively at the departing Mercedes.
‘I'll be lucky to afford an old Honda when I'm ready to drive.’ Jessica smiled wistfully. ‘But, hey.’
‘Know what you mean. I'll probably still be driving this thing when I'm thirty.’ Denise got on an old Yamaha 115cc moped and donned a helmet. ‘Give you a ride back?’
‘No, it's okay. Only six blocks – and if my mom saw me riding pillion without a helmet, she'd go crazy.’
Denise grimaced. The misfortunes and ailments besetting the Werner family. She didn't trouble to argue.
The streets rapidly became quieter and lonelier as Jessica headed away from the town center.
And as she passed the third cross-street, a black van with tinted windows turned in and started following her sixty yards behind.
She didn’t take much notice it at first, but as it edged closer, to within thirty yards, she became more aware of it. And as it stayed the same distance behind, only doing a few miles an hour, she became unsettled.
She walked faster. It stayed with her.
She looked round at it more anxiously, but couldn’t make out anything beyond its tinted glass windows. Couldn’t see its driver.
She picked up pace, almost at a jog now – when suddenly she was hit with another asthma panic attack.
Breathless, she fumbled in her handbag, put the inhaler to her mouth. She drew heavily on it as she took the last turn towards her house.
Then, her breathing evening out again, as soon as she got round the corner out of sight of the van, she started running.
She looked round frantically as she saw it swing in the corner following her, its engine revving furiously as it put on an extra spurt.<
br />
She ran full pelt, could now see her house clearly, jolting in her vision only a hundred yards ahead. Surely she could make it?
But the van swung in sharply then, its side door opening – and she caught only a blurred shadow of movement before she was grabbed round the shoulders, the cloth clamped over her mouth.
Darkness.
Darkness. Ryan's voice broke sharply through it:
‘No, no... No!’
Heavy pause, then a man's voice. ‘So, you're awake?’
A penlight torch switched on and shone on Ryan. He shrank back and squinted. The light was harsh, blinding; the man behind was little more than a hazy silhouette. Ryan couldn’t make him out clearly.
‘I... I didn't see anything. I promise.’
The man smiled. ‘I'm not with Culverton.’
‘Then who are you? What's this all about?’
‘You'll get to know soon enough.’ Some rustling in the darkness. ‘Probably sooner than you'd like. And I'm sorry to have to do this again, kiddo.’
The man reached out, clamped the cloth back over Ryan's nose and mouth. ‘The only safe place for you now is Blind School.’
The last words Ryan heard before he sank back into blackness.
Ellis Kendell was in the ATF offices with ATF agent Brent Cohburn and the FBI agent assigned to the air-crash, Paul Weiss.
Behind Cohburn was a board with numerous photos of the crash, some marked and red-circled. An ominous reminder. Ellis gave the photos one last scan before bringing his attention back to Cohburn.
‘Okay. We're pretty much agreed that a key factor is Culverton Industries' new missile defence system. And if they've got a bag of tricks that can lock on to an incoming missile and guide it away – then not much of a stretch to get that same system to lock onto an aircraft.’ Ellis took a fresh breath. ‘But the one bit that doesn't fit is why John Culverton would get rid of a key Senator lined up to green-light a big contract for the company?’
Cohburn nodded. ‘But that works equally for Alex too: why would he do that?’
Blind School Page 4