The Fusion Cage (Warner & Lopez Book 2)

by Dean Crawford

  A chorus of yes ma’am followed and then the FBI team split into groups and headed for their vehicles.

  ‘Good call.’

  The voice of Hannah’s partner, Mickey Vaughn, served to calm Hannah’s beating heart as they climbed into the pool car they’d been assigned. Mickey was a stocky, blond junior agent not long out of Quantico and assigned to Hannah. Hannah was a ten year veteran of the bureau and had already been disciplined twice for aggression in the field and an unlawful discharge of her weapon that had brought some disrepute to her field office and the wrath of Valery Jenkins.

  ‘The White Witch didn’t seem to think so.’

  Vaughn’s eyes widened. ‘Your mic’s on!’

  Hannah panicked and looked down, then slapped Mickey across the shoulder as she saw him chuckling to himself.

  ‘She’s been gunning for me ever since we iced Sylvester Ruslo down in Auburn Hills.’

  ‘He was a damned child molester, he got what he deserved,’ Mickey said as they drove out of the lot, following the rest of the team.

  ‘Civil rights didn’t agree,’ Hannah uttered in disgust. ‘Jenkins has had it in for me ever since.’

  ‘Jenkins is an asshole,’ Mickey pointed out. ‘She missed out on Langley because of her divorce and now she sees herself being stuck down here as some kind of punishment. She’s venting on you – don’t give her the satisfaction.’

  Hannah sighed and saw her reflection in the mirror, auburn hair flowing in the wind from the open window, pale skin across a slightly too–wide jaw and freckles populating her cheeks. Vivid blue eyes stared back at her, angry and afraid all at once.

  ‘When’s the jet due to land?’

  Hannah looked at her notes. ‘Fifteen minutes. You read this guy’s rap sheet?’

  ‘A few arrests from years back, former Marine Corps right?’

  ‘Iraq and Afghanistan,’ Hannah confirmed. ‘Supposedly has done some work for the government recently, runs a bail bondsmen business out of River Forest, Chicago with this Lopez woman. She’s an ex–DC cop. Nothing fits an abduction case.’

  ‘Sometimes even the good guys go bad,’ Mickey pointed out. ‘Don’t start personalizing them. Jenkins was right, we need to get them into custody and then we can figure this all out.’

  The cars swept into Charlottesville–Albermarle airport as Jenkin’s voice warbled over the intercom.

  ‘I want agents in the terminal and at all airport exits. Be ready to apprehend the suspects at all costs. As soon as the aircraft comes to a rest at the terminal, we move in.’

  Hannah did not respond to the call as she surveyed the airport. A large terminal faced out onto a long runway orientated 03–21, with aircraft landing on the 21 runway according to the orange windsock she could see gusting in the light breeze far out across the field.

  ‘Take us to the southern–most point you can find,’ she instructed Mickey. ‘I want to keep an eye on that plane from the moment it touches down.’

  ‘Roger that,’ Mickey replied as he turned into an airport parking lot.

  Hannah reached down and checked her service firearm one more time before they deployed from the vehicle.

  *

  Ethan looked out of the jet’s windows as it turned onto final approach to land, the aircraft wallowing and rocking on the wind currents as it extended undercarriage and flaps.

  ‘You think there’s anybody waiting for us?’ Lopez asked.

  Ethan nodded slowly, trying to get a better view ahead as he pressed his face to the window.

  ‘It’s what I’d do,’ he replied. ‘There can’t be many trans–Atlantic flights coming into this field from France. We can’t just walk off the jet and through the terminal or customs will spot us – we’ll have to figure something out.’

  The rolling hills below basked in the sunshine as the jet flew gracefully over fields and forests and then Ethan spotted the airfield perimeter and the parking lots filled with assorted vehicles flashing as their windows caught the sunlight.

  ‘What’s the plan then?’ Stanley asked. ‘We can’t just jump out.’

  Ethan thought for a moment, and then pushed away from the window as he finished surveying the rest of the airport. He looked at the jet’s interior, the exit hatches and the general shape of the aircraft, and he sighed and shrugged.

  ‘We can’t do anything,’ he said finally. ‘We’d better get ready.’

  *

  Hannah Ford watched as the impressive, sleek white jet landed on the runway and rocketed past them. She heard the engines whine into reverse thrust and the aircraft braked as it rolled toward the end of the runway, almost a mile away. Hannah shielded her eyes against the bright sunlight and squinted as the aircraft slowed to a stop at the end of the runway, heat haze rippling and obscuring the jet as it turned slowly and began taxiing toward the parking area in front of the main terminal.

  ‘That’s them,’ Mickey confirmed. ‘The tail code matches the FBI alert notice.’

  Valery Jenkin’s voice blared over the radio. ‘All units, go now!’

  Mickey accelerated their car and Hannah watched as half a dozen vehicles all emerged from within parking lots or from behind hangars and converged on the jet as it reached the main terminal and rolled to a halt. The engines were still whining as Hannah jumped out of her vehicle and ran toward the aircraft, the engines mercifully shutting down as she reached the entrance hatch just as a female attendant lowered it and then stared at Hannah in shock.

  ‘Freeze, FBI!’

  The attendant threw her hands in the air in surprise and backed up into the aircraft as Hannah advanced up the steps and inside. Mickey followed her, and together they turned and looked down the jet’s plush interior.

  Two men, one woman and one young girl stared back at them in horror.

  Hannah lowered her pistol as she looked at their faces and in an instant she knew.

  ‘It’s not them,’ Mickey said.

  Ten more agents piled into the aircraft, followed by Valery Jenkins, who stared at the unfamiliar faces sitting in the aircraft’s leather seats.

  ‘What the hell is going on here?!’ asked the older of the two men as he got out of his seat. ‘This is a private aircraft!’

  Hannah pushed past Mickey and the other agents and approached the cockpit. There, two pilots, one male and one female, stared in surprise at her.

  ‘Is there a problem?’ the captain asked in amazement.

  Hannah slid her pistol into its holster. ‘Yeah, there’s a problem.’

  *

  ‘It’s not going to take them long to figure out what happened to us.’

  Ethan sat in an SUV, a fresh cell phone in his hand as Lopez drove.

  ‘It’s enough of a diversion to give you time to get out of sight,’ Jarvis replied. ‘I dropped the leak to the FBI but it won’t take long for LeMay to figure that out. Once they solve what happened to you, I won’t be unable to offer any further assistance. One DIA leak could be ignored, but not two.’

  ‘I know.’

  The SUV pulled out of Yeager International Airport in West Virginia as Lopez aimed south, Stanley Meyer and Amber Ryan in the rear seats behind them. The airport was shared with the Charleston Air National Guard’s 130th Airlift Wing, a connection that had enabled Jarvis to arrange the false lead and then divert their aircraft to West Virginia.

  ‘The feds are all over this,’ Jarvis informed him. ‘MJ–12 have players within the bureau, so they’ll know by now they’ve been duped. Whatever you’re thinking of doing next, do it fast. They know you’re on US soil and they’ll be using every resource at their disposal to track you down. I have a reliable contact here at the DIAC named Hellerman. You can call this number if you need to move long distance, but that’s it for me. Go dark as of now, and good luck.’

  ‘Understood.’

  The line went silent and Ethan switched the cell off, ensuring that it could not be tracked until he next was forced to use it. Now, they were all in Stanley’s hands as he
searched for his mysterious contact in Virginia.

  ***

  XXVII

  Nathalie, Virginia

  ‘This isn’t going to work.’

  The sun was already low in the sky, bleeding molten metal across the horizon behind Virginia’s rolling hills. The clatter of a freight train passing somewhere far to the south faded into the distance, only the sound of birds in the trees accompanying them as they walked along a dirt track half a mile to the north of the main road.

  ‘We can’t take the car up here,’ Ethan replied to Amber as they walked. ‘And it’s only a matter of time before Majestic Twelve track our movements.’

  ‘We have to stay off the grid,’ Stanley agreed. ‘Any time spent in major conurbations could result in our arrest, or more likely our being shot on sight.’

  ‘This isn’t our first rodeo, Amber,’ Lopez added as they walked. ‘Ethan and I once remained off the grid for six months, completely undetected even by the CIA who were hunting us at the time.’

  Amber shot Lopez a concerned glance. ‘You never mentioned that! What did the CIA want with you two?’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ Ethan said by way of an explanation. ‘Let’s just say we’re used to staying out of the way of government agencies. What I want to know is why here? We’re not that far from Washington DC as the crow flies.’

  ‘Keep your friends close,’ Stanley smiled in the fading light as they walked. ‘There’s a community out here somewhere and we need to find them. They may be able to help us.’

  Ethan looked to his left, where amid the dense trees he could see a few distant lights where the tiny town of Nathalie was nestled in the forests.

  ‘Doesn’t look like a very large town,’ he pointed out as they walked. ‘You really think that somebody there that can help us?’

  ‘There is nobody in Nathalie who can help,’ Stanley said. ‘The kind of people we need don’t live in houses.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Amber asked.

  ‘The only allies left that we can trust are those who don’t trust the government themselves, who have already chosen to live off the grid and away from electrical supplies and the constant surveillance that goes with it.’

  Lopez cast a concerned glance at Ethan. ‘I don’t like where he’s going with this.’

  ‘Nonetheless, I think I know what he’s got in mind,’ Ethan replied as he looked at Stanley. ‘Preppers?’

  ‘Preppers,’ Stanley confirmed as they walked, the dusty track becoming ever more vague as it wound its way into the darkening wilderness. ‘Some of them have become quite sophisticated over the years and are able to support themselves on private ranches without any outside intervention. In all fairness to them, our government does not restrict such activity and has not in any way attempted to interfere with the communities that have been formed, however they also don’t advertise or advocate other people to do so. I think that Washington is more than aware that any completely self–sustaining community outside of their control represents a dangerous threat to the balance of power across the country.’

  Lopez frowned. ‘That doesn’t really make any sense. The Amish have been living in that way for centuries and won’t allow any electrical goods into their communities. It hasn’t resulted in the rest of the entire American population building barns and buying horses has it?’

  ‘No,’ Stanley agreed. ‘But that’s only because the vast majority of people like their creature comforts and don’t have any desire to live with Civil War era technology. But give them the ability to have all of their electrical devices fully functional, and yet still be without dependence on the government and you’ve got a whole different ballgame. No administration wants to see that happen on their watch, they’re just too afraid of the consequences of relinquishing too much control to the populace, no matter what you hear the Republicans yelling in Congress.’

  The track finally vanished at the edge of a long abandoned field that was overrun with tall, swaying grasses glowing in the low sunlight.

  ‘End of the line,’ Amber said as she observed the field.

  ‘Only if you don’t know what you’re looking for,’ Ethan replied as he surveyed the terrain ahead.

  ‘Since when did you become the great white hunter?’ Amber asked.

  Ethan did not reply as he looked through the various copses of trees and saw what he was looking for probably half a mile in the distance.

  ‘It’s that way,’ he pointed.

  Lopez frowned as she looked at the distant valleys and hills. ‘What, our doom in the wilderness?’

  ‘The prepper community,’ Stanley said as he followed Ethan across the overgrown field.

  Ethan smiled as Lopez rolled her eyes and followed them, and decided to put her out of her misery.

  ‘Any decent size community requires crops if they’re completely self–sufficient,’ Ethan said. ‘These fields are all long overgrown and abandoned, but those near that hillside look like they’ve been tended recently and possibly ploughed. It’s a good bet that the community’s somewhere over there, possibly concealed within the trees.’

  ‘Top marks, Mr Warner,’ Stanley said. ‘Hopefully we’ll be able to stay with them for long enough to come up with an alternative plan of action. Right now, I feel as though I have half the country’s armed forces chasing after me.’

  ‘Frankly, you probably do,’ Lopez said unhelpfully. ‘But hey, we’ll be safe out here living in mud huts with a bunch of tree–huggers.’

  ‘Would you rather be in DC?’ Stanley demanded.

  ‘I’d rather be in a hotel in some out of the way place, with a beer and some potato chips,’ Lopez replied. ‘I don’t get why we have to be all Cody Lundin about this.’

  Ethan ignored Lopez’s grumbling as he led the way through a dense copse of trees that separated the abandoned fields from the ploughed ones he’d seen from the track. The trees virtually blotted out the darkening sky above, already speckled with a thousand tiny stars that flickered like beacons as he walked carefully in the darkness.

  ‘I can’t see a damned thing,’ Amber muttered miserably, then cursed as her foot smacked into a gnarled tree root.

  Ethan was about to answer when he froze mid–stride on the track, the hairs on his neck tingling as he stared into the darkness.

  ‘What is it?’ Lopez asked, whispering as she almost clairvoyantly sensed the sudden tension in Ethan.

  Ethan saw her raise her chin slightly as she detected the same threat as he had done. The odour on the air was faint, just enough to stand out from the pristine scent of the forest itself, as the breeze carried a waft of tobacco and old fabric past them.

  Ethan knew that the source of the odour could not be more than a few yards away to have carried so easily on the almost still air, and even before he could say anything he saw a figure step out onto the track before them, a shadow against the shadows, and heard the sound of a shotgun being cocked, pump action.

  ‘Don’t move.’

  The voice was threatening, and Ethan realized that they had technically trespassed on private land.

  ‘We already stopped,’ Ethan managed to quip, hoping to defuse any confrontation quickly. ‘We were looking for somebody.’

  ‘Who?’

  Ethan could not make out the individual’s appearance in the gloom, but he was smart enough to be standing well out of reach of Ethan or any of his companions, and Ethan had the sense that he might be willing to open fire if he felt truly threatened.

  Lopez’s voice cut through the silence.

  ‘Somebody who can help us,’ she said.

  Smart move, make us sound like we’re defenceless and on the run, which in fact they actually were, Ethan realized. It was Stanley who stepped forward, his hands in the air.

  ‘I’m looking for Jesse McVey,’ he said. ‘Is he still living out here?’

  The figure turned slightly to look at Stanley and Ethan heard the man dig around in his jacket for a moment.

 
; ‘Who’s askin’?’

  ‘Stanley Meyer, I’m here to see if Jesse might be willing to … ’

  A brilliant light blazed into their eyes and Ethan squinted and turned his head away in an attempt to protect his night vision, but already all he could see was a blurry orb of light seared onto his retina.

  ‘Jesus, will you cut it out?!’ Lopez snapped. ‘We’re unarmed, okay?!’

  Ethan squinted past the bright light as the man stared at Stanley for a long beat and then lowered the flashlight.

  ‘The Stanley Meyer?’ he asked in apparent amazement. ‘The steam car builder?!’

  Stanley nodded, rubbing his eyes.

  ‘I’ve moved on a bit from cars now,’ he replied.

  Ethan saw the shotgun turned aside and made safe as the man strode forward, a broad grin on his features, his hair a brilliant red that sparkled in the flashlight’s glow, a thin beard adorning his jaw.

  ‘I’ll be damned,’ he gasped. ‘It is you.’

  ‘You’ve got a fan club?’ Lopez asked Stanley.

  ‘You bet your last damned dollar he has,’ the man replied, extending one hand and shaking Stanley’s so vigorously Ethan thought he might yank it from its socket. ‘This guy virtually revolutionized car travel, until the government stepped in and banned his inventions.’

  ‘They didn’t ban them, exactly,’ Stanley said. ‘They claimed the boilers in the cars were unsafe.’

  ‘Unsafe my ass!’ the man boomed. ‘I’ve been driving a Lincoln with one of your boilers in it for the last ten years! It’s never gone wrong, not once!’

  ‘Who are you?’ Amber asked, bemused.