by Lee Driver
“Pity. Thought maybe they added a few brain cells.”
Sara watched Dagger’s reaction. His mind was in overdrive. She could imagine him contemplating all modes of action. But who does he target? If it were BettaTec, did Dagger know where they were located? Did he know who was responsible? How did he get the map on the wall in the vault which had obviously belonged to BettaTec?
“What’s up?” Dagger asked as he pushed the plate away.
Padre pulled a brown envelope from his inside jacket pocket. “Luther found this clenched in the hand of the jumper who landed on your truck.” He pulled out what looked like a charred pen from the envelope and opened it. “My geek squad determined it’s a flash drive but if I’m jumping, the last thing I would think of clenching would be a pen so there’s gotta be something here worth dying for.”
“Your people pull anything off of it?” Dagger asked.
“No. I don’t think our techs are as good as that squirrely friend of yours,” Padre admitted. “Can you have him take a look at it?”
“Sure. Now I have a question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“Did Cardinal Esrey determine if anything was taken from his hotel suite?”
“Not a thing.”
“He isn’t missing the flash drive?”
“Surprisingly, no.”
CHAPTER 21
“Can’t you sit your butt down for a few minutes?” Skizzy growled. “You’re driving me crazy.”
Dagger paced a short path in back of Skizzy’s chair. He had dropped off the flash drive last night and told Skizzy to make it a priority. Skizzy looked like he hadn’t slept all night. There was a blanket and pillow on the couch against the far wall. A half-eaten bowl of popcorn was sitting on a table.
“For starters you can tell me why a cardinal needs to encrypt his correspondence.”
Dagger shrugged. “We’re still not sure it was the cardinal’s flash drive.”
“It’s going to take some time to recover what little I can off of a char-broiled stick. Go for breakfast or something.”
A loud buzz radiated through the building. “Jeez Louise,” Skizzy barked. “Who the hell is that? Sign says I don’t open ’til ten o’clock.” The buzzing was insistent. It stopped abruptly then a pounding rattled through the store. Skizzy punched a button on the surveillance monitor. Sara was outside the door. “Hope girlie has some coffee.”
Dagger pounded up the stairs. He unlocked the bank of security bolts and jerked the swollen door open. “Sara, what is so….?”
“What flight was Doc on?” Sara’s words spewed out in a rush as she headed to the back room.
“Why?”
“Haven’t you been listening to the news?” Sara hurried down the stairs with Dagger in pursuit. “A plane headed for LAX blew up in the sky over Black Rock Desert.”
“What?”
Skizzy half turned from the monitor. “I’m on it.” He punched several keys and hacked into the passenger manifest for the airline Doc Akins had taken. It only took several seconds for him to find Doc listed and several seconds more to bring up the news bulletin on the airplane. It had taken off at seven this morning from Chicago’s O’Hare Airport and disappeared off the radar over the Black Rock Desert in Nevada. It was estimated that the plane went down in Pyramid Lake.
“Do they think there was a bomb onboard?” Sara asked, tears welling. “I can’t believe just when Doc was taking that metal cover to his friend that…”
“Skizzy,” Dagger said.
“I’m on it.”
Dagger and Sara stood behind Skizzy as he accessed satellite footage from the exact time the plane disappeared off radar. To the unsuspecting eye, nothing seemed out of place. But Skizzy knew how far to slow down the film in order to catch the laser beam. They had to watch closely. It was a brief flash of light from a satellite. An explosion lit up the sky four miles above the Earth.
Dagger’s skin felt cold and clammy. No one spoke. Skizzy blinked several times. It was Sara who finally broke the silence.
“Don’t you think government satellites would pick up the same thing? Or NASA, the FAA? Or the space shuttle?” Sara asked. “They will know that airplanes just don’t disappear.”
“Not if they don’t know what to look for,” Skizzy said in a quiet voice. “They would suspect a bomb onboard first. When the officials don’t see what we just saw, then they rely on pilots from nearby airplanes that might have seen an explosion.” Skizzy cocked his head over his shoulder and asked, “Want me to send these videos to the press anonymously?”
“No. We can’t let BettaTec know we are on to them.” Dagger took a step back. Doc Akins was dead because of him. But why? “This makes no sense. Why now? They had every opportunity since the two satellites have been up and running.”
A monitor on the table beeped prompting the printer to start spitting out pages. Skizzy stared for a few seconds and shook his head. “Lotta stuff on Italy, Rome. Hmmm.” Skizzy’s eyes seemed to dance in opposite directions. “He’s got blueprints of the Vatican. Dates, appearances. All kinda jumbled stuff. Too much destroyed to make sense out of it. Who the hell is Joseph Ratzinger?”
“I’ve heard that name,” Sara said. “He’s Pope Benedict.”
Skizzy looked over his shoulder at Sara, then Dagger. “Damn. They must have some big plans for the Pope. And I bet it ain’t good.”
Dagger tried to make heads or tails out of the connection but he was coming up empty. He was still trying to wrap his brain around what was in his neck. “I was told Cardinal Esrey is taking a post at the Vatican. Certainly puts him close to the Pope. Skizzy, you need to check more surveillance tapes of the cardinal’s flights. Keep trying to identify the other guy. Maybe he and the cardinal know each other.”
Skizzy held up another page. “Got some weird numbers here that weren’t encrypted…41-30-31 100-47-30.”
Dagger had engrained those numbers in his head. “Those are the numbers that were on that metal cover Doc was taking to L.A.”
Skizzy paced, twig arms wrapped tightly around his body. “That guy broke into your house then his clone steals a flash drive from the cardinal. The flash drive has documents with numbers connected to the thing in your neck. The cardinal is connected somehow.” Skizzy spun 180 degrees and leveled a beady eye on Dagger. “Tell me everything you know about this company.”
Dagger stared back. “It isn’t that easy.” When one of Skizzy’s eyebrows jerked, Dagger told Sara, “See what else you can find out about Doc’s plane.” He motioned for Skizzy to follow and Dagger led him up the stairs.
Once at the top, Dagger quietly slid the lock across and closed the bookcase, locking Sara in the basement.
“What are you doing?” Skizzy asked.
“Give me three hours. And whatever you do, don’t let Sara out. I don’t want her following me,” Dagger replied. He rippled his fingers. “I need a car.”
“What? You got four or five.”
“All that Sara can recognize.”
The squirrely guy’s eyes narrowed. “What are you up to?” Skizzy slowly pulled a set of keys from a drawer as he whispered, “You know what those numbers stand for, don’t you?”
Dagger wouldn’t confirm it. All he said was, “Three hours.”
Sara watched the tape for the third time. There was no mistaking that the BettaTec satellite shot down Doc’s plane. How convenient that they waited until the plane was over the desert, calculating with such precision to guarantee the wreckage would fall into the lake making it impossible for the FAA to retrieve parts to verify what went wrong. Dagger was right—these people were dangerous.
Her eyes were drawn to the numbers again. What could they refer to? Could only be serial numbers. She had seen the metal lid Doc removed. There were two separate sets.
The sudden silence chilled her. Something wasn’t right. What was taking Dagger so long? Where did he go? Sara moved to the lit staircase and called out, “Dagger?” She noticed the door at the top of the stair
s was closed. Taking the stairs two at a time, she reached the top and tried the doorknob. The door was locked.
“Skizzy?” Sara pounded on the door. “The door is locked.” She pressed her ear to the door and listened. Pacing, heavy breathing. Sara pounded again. “Dagger? This isn’t funny.” And it wasn’t a joke. Skizzy was the one pacing. The steps were frantic and in a tight circle…typical Skizzy. Dagger planned to shut her out. But why? “Skizzy, I’m going to twist you into a pretzel when I get out of here.”
Sara pressed her ear to the door again. Her enhanced hearing picked up, “Oh boy, oh boy. What am I going to do? Three hours. Dagger said three hours.”
“What?” Dagger wouldn’t tell Skizzy to keep her locked up for three hours, would he? “SKIZZY, OPEN THIS DOOR.” Sara resisted the urge to pound her fist through the door. It wouldn’t be hard. She suspected he also closed the bookcase but she didn’t want to destroy Skizzy’s bookcase.
“I can’t,” she could hear Skizzy saying. “Can’t listen, can’t listen.”
She could imagine the skinny guy pacing with palms pressed to his ears. This wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Sara pounded down the stairs. The person she needed to communicate with was Dagger but she had to shift first. Her eyes were drawn to the cameras. There were four in the bunker, two in the staircase. There wasn’t any way she could shift with camera eyes on her.
Three hours. What could he do in three hours? Where was Dagger planning to go? Three hours would allow him a pretty good head start. Her eyes were drawn to the numbers again. “You figured it out, didn’t you, Dagger? You know what the numbers mean.”
She wheeled her chair over to a second computer and keyed in the numbers in various combinations. This wasn’t going to be easy. These could be reference numbers, biblical passages. Was Dagger planning to confront the cardinal?
One of the icons on Skizzy’s monitor was for satellite images. She clicked on it and then typed in Skizzy’s address. If she could see the satellite image from when Dagger left she should be able to follow him. Estimating the time of Dagger’s departure, Sara watched the video feedback. After fifteen minutes she failed to see Dagger emerge from the front entrance. Next she focused on the rear exit. Again, she didn’t see Dagger anywhere. His Navigator was still parked in front of the store as was her PT Cruiser. Was he still upstairs or did Skizzy have some secret tunnel? Sara wouldn’t put it past him. Skizzy owned a Humvee and a number of other vehicles. They had to be parked somewhere, probably underground. And Skizzy probably had an underground access from the pawn shop.
Sara expanded the satellite search to a surrounding five- block area watching for the appearance of a Humvee exiting a garage. After twenty minutes of scanning, her eyeballs hurt. She was tempted to march right back upstairs and pound through the door and bookcase but then remembered her house. Of course! Dagger would go home first for supplies. She typed in the address for her house and waited for the satellite images. How did Skizzy happen to get live satellite feedback? She didn’t want to know. It probably wasn’t legal.
Her house came into view. She typed in the time she estimated that Dagger would have arrived at the house and watched for the next twenty minutes. Nothing. Dagger had not returned home. Where could he be?
Sara glanced at the sides of the screen. The top and bottom of the screen had numbers, as did the left and right sides of the screen. She stared at the numbers written on the pad of paper, the ones which were off the metal cover Doc removed from Dagger’s neck. Could they be coordinates? How bizarre was that? No matter how ridiculous it seemed, Sara punched in the numbers and waited.
The satellite image shifted and pointed toward a spot in central Nebraska north of North Platte. It was an isolated section near Ringgold. The closest town looked ten miles away. She punched another key and zoomed in on the area. It was a group of buildings with fencing around several large sheds. Not one car was in the area. It looked like a Western ghost town.
By Sara’s calculations the abandoned town was close to seven hundred miles from Cedar Point, around ten hours driving time for the normal person. For Dagger, it was probably a seven hour drive. She doubted he would fly because he would need a car, one that couldn’t be traced back to a rental company where he would have to show identification.
Sara zoomed in until she could see words on the buildings. One sign on the cyclone fence read Gemini M.S. She opened a third window and accessed Google. By typing in Gemini M.S. she received tens of thousands of hits, mostly dealing with astrology. She went back to the sign on the cyclone fence. Zooming in again she saw a symbol shaped like a butterfly with its wings closed. A chill swept over her body. She knew that symbol. It wasn’t a butterfly at all but a fish…a betta. It was the symbol for BettaTec.
CHAPTER 22
“SKIZZY!” Sara pounded on the door enough to rattle the hinges. “DAGGER’S WALKING INTO A TRAP!” She pressed her ear to the door and focused her hearing. Skizzy wasn’t pacing. Instead she heard his heart pounding. It was loud and rapid. Skizzy had his ear pressed to the other side of the door. He had opened the bookcase at one point while she was busy doing her searches. But she was sure he was right on the other side. “Skizzy.” Sara kept her voice low. “We have to help him. BettaTec owns the buildings where Dagger is headed.
Locks were released. Sara moved down one step. The door swung open.
“BettaTec?” Skizzy’s eyes bulged and appeared to wobble in their sockets. “The company with the satellite that explodes things?”
“The company with two satellites that explode things.” Sara slowly descended. “Let me show you something.” She could have overpowered him if she wanted to and just taken off, but she needed Skizzy’s help.
Skizzy slid into the chair and eyed the screen. He went back to the satellite image to check the coordinates. Following the exact steps Sara had taken, he ended up back at the sign on the cyclone fence.
Sara pointed at the symbol of the fish. “That’s the same symbol on the map in Dagger’s vault, the map he took from BettaTec. I’m sure of it. Did Dagger tell you where he was going?”
“No, but he appeared to know where he was headed. Said he had to do this on his own.”
“Those numbers are longtitude and latitude coordinates. It targets an area in Nebraska that looks like a ghost town. The sign says Gemini M.S. Any idea what it means?”
Skizzy let out a whoosh of air. “By the looks of them buildings and the isolated area, I’d say it stands for missile silo.”
“Missile silo? What is a private company doing operating a missile silo?”
“The U.S. closed most by 1965. They were focusing more on long range intercontinental ballistic missiles so the missile silos were obsolete. They sold the properties. Some idiots actually turned them into underground bunker homes. Looks like BettaTec bought this one. It’s a good cover if a company didn’t want people to know what they were doing there.”
“I have to help him.” Sara charged up the stairs.
“Whoa, wait up there just a minute, girlie. I ain’t supposed to let you leave yet.”
“Or what?” Sara reached the top of the stairs and turned to face him. “What else did Dagger tell you?”
“Just to keep an eye on the cardinal. There’s supposed to be some farewell thing he wants me and Simon to hire on as waiters.”
“Well, if you and Simon can’t help him, that leaves me.” Sara headed for the door but stopped when she saw the Navigator parked at the curb. She whirled on the scrawny guy, forced Skizzy to take a step back. “Where’s your garage? I checked satellite surveillance and didn’t see Dagger leave the building. So where do you keep your vehicles and what car did you loan Dagger?”
“Oh man.” Skizzy kicked at imaginary dirt. “He’s going to kill me.”
“There won’t be anything to kill after I get through with you. Now what car is he driving?”
“An unused utility tunnel leads to my garage a block away. He’s driving a turbocharged Chevy Cobalt.”
CHAPTER 23
Dagger had stayed on I-80 through Nebraska. There were more semi-tractor trailers to pace his speed and, more importantly, a better choice of hotels. He could have picked a small mom and pop motel but with so few rooms, it would be too easy for the owners to describe him. At a larger hotel he could get lost in the crowd.
Just west of Kearney he stopped at a Sheraton Hotel whose marquee welcomed the Nebraska Industrial Instrumentation Association. He didn’t request any special accommodations that would make the desk clerk remember him. After taking the room key card, he dumped his gym bag on the bed, showered and changed. His fourth floor room overlooked the parking lot. Several doors down was a pancake house, a steak house, and a large chain family restaurant. Across the street was a gas station with a McDonalds. He would need to stock up on water and protein bars before setting out tomorrow morning. For now he needed one helluva steak.
The lobby was filled with men standing in clusters, some in suits, some dressed casual, all looking like salesmen. Beady eyes appeared to analyze and sort comments. Blackberrys were being punched, cell phones were tethered to ear buds.
Dagger could blend in with this bunch. Black jeans, black tennis shoes, dark gray shirt, a black jean jacket, dark shades, and long hair stuffed under a baseball cap with Michelin written across the front screamed trucker to all who looked at him. It was too warm for a jacket but Dagger had to hide his Kimber that was in the belt holster. Besides, he doubted there were that many truckers who weren’t packing heat.
He slid into a booth in the crowded bar, selecting one in a corner with full view of the entrance. He pulled a map of Nebraska from the inside pocket of his jacket and unfolded it on the table.
A waiter slouched over. He didn’t look old enough to drink let alone serve a drink. He still had the residuals of teenage acne.
“Want something to drink?”