Blind Instinct: A Tess Barrett Thriller

by Michael W. Sherer

  Carefully squeezing his body between the grate and the rock wall he made it through the opening without catching clothes or skin on a sharp edge. He started to pull the grate back into position, but figured they’d quickly realize he was gone. Better to put as much distance between himself and the tunnel as he could in the time he had. He put a hand on the cold wall and walked in the direction the guard had taken after leaving food. His took tentative steps at first, but the floor seemed smooth enough that he quickly increased his pace. After five minutes of walking, he wondered if staying close to the wall had taken him into a side tunnel deeper into the earth. But he had no choice.

  After another minute or so, the air took on a different quality, a freshness that had been lacking in his prison cell. And he sensed movement. Not a breeze, exactly. More like a soft breath. Warmer, too, than in the depth of the tunnel. Suddenly his vision was filled with pinpoints of light and he wondered if he was about to pass out. The rock wall fell away, leaving his fingers tracing nothing but air, and he saw the twinkling dots for what they were—stars. He was free. Dark shapes of scrub trees blotted out the stars along the horizon here and there, and the land rose up a rolling hillside to one side and even more steeply up the side of a mountain behind him. Ahead and to his left, stands of conifers poked into the inky blackness, starlight outlining their shapes.

  A rutted dirt track stretched in front of him, grass grown in the middle halfway up his shins. He took the water bottle out of his pocket, took a sip and held it up to the starlight. About two ounces left, and no food. He had two choices—head into the wilderness away from his captors or follow the track, perhaps right back into their clutches. Night was probably the best time for him to be on the move. The openness and freedom of the rolling meadow off to his right beckoned in the starlight. He sighed and set off down the dirt road.

  Chapter 26

  Tess sat at the study table in the library, headphones on, eyes closed, her face expressionless, her body still as a statue. The eyes closed part made no difference to her I supposed—probably an unconscious habit to help her concentrate—but it helped me by signaling that she was absorbed in her work so I could focus on mine. Though I knew she was blind, whenever her eyes were open they still tried to track sounds and conversations, giving the eerie impression that she could still see. She couldn’t help it, she said. It still came automatically.

  I’d done a little research on her type of sightlessness—the accident had somehow damaged the part of the brain responsible for interpreting signals from her optic nerve, though doctors had found no evidence of it on MRIs. Her eyes were quite healthy and normal. So I wondered if it wasn’t a good thing she was exercising the eye muscles on the off chance that whatever was wrong with her occipital lobe might someday be repaired.

  She was remarkably calm considering the crappy day she’d had. I don’t know that I would have handled rejection to a dance invitation in front of half the high school and a threat to my guardian’s life nearly as well. The fact that she appeared to be studying—French or music probably—gave me the chance to get on her laptop and do some research.

  We’d agreed that though the caller had not given Tess a chance to speak to Travis or offer proof of life, he most likely was one of the kidnappers. After she’d recovered from the initial shock, Tess had argued, and I agreed, that we now had two reasons to find Travis. Whoever had grabbed him was determined that no one vote the shares of the company held on Tess’s behalf, and now his life was in danger, too. Tess also had made a case for finding Travis ourselves, and while I wasn’t sure the two of us were the best choice for the job, I had to agree that no one actually responsible for tracing his whereabouts was entirely trustworthy.

  Tess trusted Marcus the least. A few days after the gun battle that had nearly killed us both, she’d told me about how Marcus had shot and killed Kenny, another member of Travis’s security team, in a supposed attempt to save her. I’d been there, too, but knocked out cold at the time. Marcus had claimed that Kenny was a mole, a traitor, but Tess was convinced that it was the other way around. And even though she hadn’t seen what had taken place right in front of her, I trusted what she’d heard and sensed. Which meant our focus was on Marcus.

  Twice in the past few days, she’d discerned specific odors on Marcus—horse manure, something metallic and rotten eggs. The rotten-egg smell probably came from sulfur in some form, but there were so many it might be hard to pin down. The emotional context of the snippy way she’d pawned this assignment off on me brought her exact words back. She’d said, “…something else I can’t quite put my finger on. Something burning.” Burning sulfur smelled more like a burnt kitchen match, fire and brimstone stuff. That smell came from sulfur dioxide. When I put those together I came up with copper mining. Horse manure suggested a ranch of some kind, and my bet was on a working ranch, not a guest ranch. More private. Either way, the odds of finding Travis were as high as winning the lottery. But I had to try.

  I narrowed the search by identifying states with a lot of copper production. I figured whoever took Travis wouldn’t risk trying to take him out of the country. Most states where copper had been discovered had long since stopped producing it. The only copper mines in Washington had been on the Olympic Peninsula and near Lake Chelan, both long closed. The site in Chelan was now a church retreat, accessible only by boat, and I doubted the Olympic Peninsula boasted many dude ranches. The top five producing states all were in the western part of the country. Ranches would be common in all five states. So maybe they hadn’t gone by car.

  I sat back and thought about how long Marcus had been gone on each of his “recon missions.” Not that long. Eight hours, maybe less, on one. That would make Arizona or New Mexico a real stretch. Utah and Nevada were a little closer, but Montana looked like a good candidate. A couple of hours away by jet. Sitting up, I put my fingers back on the keyboard and initiated another search, pulling up a list of all the mines in Montana. Opening another window, I searched for ranches in the state and compared locations. Most of the mines were clustered around Butte, with most of the others in the northwest part of the state, west of Kalispell. The search turned up hundreds of private ranches for sale, but I also found a couple of sites that listed working ranches that took guests. Most of those were in the central plains. Through trial and error, I found about a dozen ranches relatively close to copper mines.

  I reached across the table and touched Tess’s arm. Her eyes flew open, that involuntary reaction I still found so disconcerting. She pulled the headphones off.

  “I might have something,” I said. I explained what I’d done. “The problem is I don’t know how to figure out which ranch is the right one.”

  She cocked her head for a moment, then said, “Follow the money. That’s what Dad always used to say.”

  I turned at the sound of the door opening behind me.

  Alice poked her head through the opening. “Someone to see you two.”

  She stepped aside, letting Derek in.

  “Sorry to barge in.” He ran a hand through his tousled hair.

  “Derek,” I said. “Just the man I want to see.”

  He strode across the room and eased into a chair. “Hey, Tess, Oliver. What’s up?”

  His eyes blazed with intensity, nervous energy spilling off him like sparks thrown off a hot fire. But he contained whatever he’d come to tell us, letting me start.

  “We might have a lead on where Travis is being held,” I said. “Could use your help running some searches.”

  He set his ever-present notebook computer on the table in front of him. “Show me what you’ve got.”

  I told him what I’d learned so far and Tess’s idea for finding out more. He leaned over to look at the list I’d compiled, and I swiveled Tess’s laptop so the screen faced him. He started typing immediately.

  “This shouldn’t be too tough,” he said. “We can probably get most of this from county tax records.”

  “What’s wrong, Dere
k?” Tess asked quietly.

  He didn’t stop typing. “That obvious?”

  “You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

  “Good point. Not that I don’t like you guys and all.” He launched into a story about tracing the upload of the rogue program onto the company servers from a computer outside Dave Bradley’s office.

  “I can’t believe he’d do that!” Tess was shocked. “Mr. Bradley was one of my dad’s first employees after he moved the company up here from California.”

  “Bradley’s on the board,” I said. “That’s serious stuff if he’s involved. Someone could have used that computer just to steer attention away from themselves.”

  “I considered it,” Derek said “I checked his computer. Almost got caught.”

  “Oh, my god,” Tess said. “What happened?”

  He ran it down quickly for us while he worked. “A little scary, but I got out, so no big deal. The problem is what’s on Bradley’s computer. Not just the infected version of the app, but a whole bunch of programs that monitor biometrics, GPS locations, web surfing patterns.”

  “Well, that’s it!” Tess said. “You’ve got proof!”

  Derek shook his head. “Like Oliver said, you’re talking about a senior vice president and board member. If I accuse Dave Bradley, he’ll just say I planted the stuff on his computer. Who do you think they’ll believe?”

  “They have to believe you.” Tess said. “We have to tell someone!”

  “I used to be a hacker, Tess. I’m telling you, they’ll never listen to me. They’ll just fire my ass, and then where will we be?”

  “Travis would believe you.” Her face fell. “But he’s not here.”

  “We need more than proof, Tess. We need a way to stop this, or else catch these jagoffs in the act.”

  “Got anything in mind?” I said.

  He glanced up from the screen and scratched the stubble on his cheek ruefully. “No. But I think we better come up with something fast. The stuff on Bradley’s computer scares me. It’s way worse than Big Brother.”

  “How much worse?” I said.

  “They’re not just watching; they’re influencing, maybe even brainwashing.” He continued to focus on his screen. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. I think I may have hit pay dirt.”

  “What did you find?” Tess said.

  “Most of the ranches on your list are privately owned. A couple are owned by hotel chains. But this one…” Derek tapped the screen. “This one is owned by a shell corporation. No way to trace the actual owners. But I was able to hack into the ranch’s computer and look at the books. In addition to the usual guests—couples on honeymoon, families on vacation—the ranch hosts a lot of groups for meetings, conferences, that sort of thing.”

  “You found all that out just now?” The incredulity in Tess’s voice matched the way I felt.

  “It’s not that hard when you know what you’re doing.”

  He shrugged.

  “So, what’s special about these groups?” I said.

  “There seem to be an unusually large number of companies with defense contracts that show up. You know, the kind that make planes and tanks and guns?”

  “Don’t tell me. A corresponding number of congressmen from Washington happen to vacation there at the same time.”

  “You got it,” he said.

  “So, whoever owns the ranch has a lot of power, influence and money. Sounds like just the sort of people who would hold Travis to get what they want.”

  “We have to get him out of there,” Tess said.

  “Get who out of where?” Alice said quietly as she came in.

  “Uncle Travis,” Tess said, a defiant expression steeling her face. “We think we know where he is. It’s up to us, Oliver. If we’re right, no one’s really looking for him. Not Marcus, and he’s in charge of the search.”

  “Shh!” Alice turned, shutting the door behind her. “Keep your voice down, Tess. You don’t know who might be listening.”

  “This is important, Alice! We need to get him back.”

  “I know that, and I agree. You just need to be more careful, that’s all. Now where do you think he is?”

  “You agree?” Tess blinked several times. “You’ll help us?”

  “Of course I’ll help. I want him back in charge as badly as you.”

  “We’ve narrowed it down to a ranch in Montana,” I said. “West of Kalispell.”

  “Well, don’t just sit there,” Alice said. “We’ve got a lot to do. Dinner’s ready, so come eat while I arrange to have your father’s jet ready in the morning. Then you two better pack.”

  “What about Derek?” Tess said.

  “Derek has enough to do here,” Alice said.

  I was still shaking my head over how Alice mentioned ordering up the family’s private jet as nonchalantly as the rest of us order a cup of coffee.

  Chapter 27

  Austin tumbled out of the rear door of Greg’s Beemer, the girls’ laughter echoing in his ears as Greg hit the gas and peeled away with a shriek of tires on pavement. He glanced over his shoulder at the dark vehicle sitting on the side of the road a hundred yards behind him. It was hidden behind bright headlights, but Austin knew who occupied it. He gave a little wave and turned onto a driveway blocked by a short iron gate. They’d already passed through the main security checkpoint at the entrance to the Naval Observatory grounds, so practically everybody and his brother knew he was home. He waved again as he trudged toward the gate, knowing that somewhere a cop dressed in a Secret Service Uniformed Division outfit had eyes on him, whether on closed circuit camera or in person. In answer, the gate creaked and opened with the hum of electric motors.

  He slipped through before they’d finished opening and headed for the big Victorian house he’d been forced to call home for the past several years. Hurrying now, he passed the front door and onto the walkway the followed the curved, covered verandah around the side of the house. Lights glowed fiercely through the windows of the downstairs rooms, but those on the upper stories remained dark. Austin could see the back of his father’s head sticking up above an easy chair in the garden room. Austin hoped he could sneak in the back entry through the kitchen so he wouldn’t have to confront his father. With his old man preoccupied, though, Austin decided to come in through a side door by the pool to save time instead of circling around to the kitchen.

  Inside, he moved as quietly as he could down a hallway past two lounges. His route would take him through the sitting room next to the garden room where his father sat reading the paper. But Austin figured he could make it through unnoticed and slip up the stairs to his room. He glanced around the room as he crossed the floor. He hated the overstuffed old furniture, the “historic” paintings on the walls, the ornate molding. The whole place reminded him of a museum. Like living at his grandparents’ house. You couldn’t touch anything.

  He’d almost made it to the door into the front foyer and the stairs to freedom when a voice called out behind him.

  “Austin!”

  He stopped and turned.

  “Come here, please.” His father stood in the doorway across from the garden room, newspaper dangling from one hand.

  Reluctantly, Austin crossed to within a few feet of his father.

  His father’s brow wrinkled. “Where the hell have you been?”

  His voice was quiet, calm—far be it for Josiah Dunn, Vice President of the United States to raise his voice—but Austin winced anyway, as if struck by his father’s displeasure.

  “You know exactly where I’ve been,” Austin said, straightening his shoulders to look bigger. “Not one minute went by tonight when you couldn’t get a rundown from half a dozen of those secret squirrels of my exact location.”

  “Mind your manners, Austin. I’ve been worried sick.”

  “In between campaign appearances? When do you find the time, Dad?”

  “I’m warning you, Austin. Show a little respect—”

  “Or what?
You’ll ground me? Having Huey and Dewey follow me around all day is bad enough. You might as well throw me in jail, Dad. It’s the same thing.”

  “They’re there to protect you, Austin. You know that. They protect all of us.”

  “From what? They don’t do squat. You heard about my laptop, right? Did they stop it? Did they even see who did it? Come on, Dad. That could just as easily have been a bomb. Lucky me it was only Reddi-wip.”

  “What’s gotten into you lately? I don’t know you anymore.”

  “Maybe if you spent some time with your family instead of playing politics I wouldn’t such a huge disappointment to you, and Mom wouldn’t be a pill-popping lush.”

  Austin didn’t even see his father’s open hand coming. It smacked him hard on the cheek, spinning his head to one side. He felt his skin grow hot where the slap had landed, and he stared at his father in shock.

  “That’s enough!” his dad said. “Go to your room, now!”

  Austin turned away before his father could see the tears that stung his eyes. He stumbled across the room, desperate to get away, to hide his humiliation.

  “And Austin,” his father called, “next time you pull a stunt like this, I’ll have them haul you in on whatever charges they can find and see if a judge can talk some sense into you. I don’t care what it costs me politically. You have to learn there are consequences for what you do.”

  Austin mumbled, “Maybe you ought to think about that.”

  “What did you say?” his father said.

  But Austin had already turned the corner out of sight and now took the stairs up two at a time and raced down the hallway to his room. Inside, he closed and barricaded the door with a chair. He couldn’t stand it anymore, being on display all the time, everyone watching him, following him. He felt so helpless, so powerless. He looked at the backpack on the floor next to his desk. He still had homework to do. He sat down, but instead of pulling out his books, he retrieved his cell phone and turned on Never Bitten.