Power (River Sunday Romance Mysteries Book 8)

by Thomas Hollyday

  As he saw Loggerman’s knife, he said excitedly, putting his palms in front to protect himself, “Hey, don’t cut me, man.”

  Stephanie led them behind the man’s chair to a small door. Opening it and rushing down a narrow stairway, they entered her dressing room from above.

  The room was deserted. Stephanie ran by a room size mirror to a purple seat. She pulled jeans from beneath the chair and struggled into them. “Hurry,” she said, as she snapped her waist button and stepped into flip-flops.

  She led to the back door at the end of the room. Behind them they heard loud voices.

  “They are getting away.”

  “Come on, let’s check in here.”

  The front dressing room door was being shaken. “Get the key,” a woman yelled.

  They tumbled out into a dark alley filled with trash dumpsters. None of the protesters were in sight. The two clerics appeared.

  “Come with us.”

  Loggerman stopped and said, “Where are you taking us?”

  “Come,” said the man holding the cane, “We’ll help to free your daughter.”

  Loggerman asked, “Are you with the Tinkers?”

  “We are clerics. We serve those who want freedom. You are bringing a young woman from this place and we think you are freeing her from something holding her in this bar.”

  Stephanie said nothing.

  “Your silence proves us right.”

  Doctor Mike said, holding Stephanie’s hand, “We must get to our boat.”

  “Follow us.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Monday

  From Baltimore Loggerman travelled with his daughter and Doctor Mike on the Coast Guard forty seven footer. The craft brought them across and down the Chesapeake Bay to the River Sunday area. During the trip Eddison studied the secret newsletter app on Stephanie’s phone. He asked questions about the codes and, with her help, was able to see the extent of the Tinker horror facing the country.

  She said, “I am coded as a seventy-seven volunteer.”

  He looked at her downcast face. “Stephanie, we would interpret what you call seventy-seven activity as intelligence gathering. It’s essentially spying. For the right reason, it’s an honorable and necessary job. For the wrong reason, we call it being a traitor to your country.”

  She said, “My mother needed me, so I had to do it.”

  “We are authorized to offer you clemency. We need you to serve your country to defeat the Tinker Institute. Can you do that?”

  “I realize they killed Cole Tinker. They will kill my mother. I have to help you.”

  The Bertram was anchored offshore near River Sunday. When they arrived, she was fueled and fully prepared to make her secret run into the compound. The black and white Bertram’s thirty-one foot length was much smaller than the patrol craft. Crewmembers had been aboard her cleaning and adding communications gear to match the equipment of the Coast Guard.

  The plan was to infiltrate the compound barn area by dawn. They would cruise a shallow creek which came off the Nanticoke River and ran down the other side of the Institute. The Institute compound was framed on both sides like a peninsula with this creek on one side and the Nanticoke River itself on the other. From the Eddison workboat observation post which was on the main river, Sarah and Barbara had already warned against using that shoreline. They informed Eddison the pier and aircraft mooring were too active with Tinker personnel.

  The entry team was fitted with Coast Guard Deployable Ops camouflage suits. They carried Sig Sauer pistols and Heckler and Koch MP7 submachine guns with silencers.

  “You still got your boots, Loggerman,” Ringo laughed.

  “You got to admit my daughter looks all right in her camouflage.”

  Stephanie turned and said, “Thank you,” with a smile. She hitched up her gun belt.

  Two Coast Guard boatswain’s mates, a woman and a man, rode with them in the cockpit. Both were combat trained in the Coast Guard Special Forces team and were cyber-warfare experts. They carried kits for analyzing and hacking the Tinker Institute computer system. Their goal was to stop its control of outside computer systems at energy sites across the nation.

  Eddison had told them about the conditions inside River Sunday. A large mob of demonstrators had appeared since the shooting of Cole Tinker. Eddison said, “Our troops are ready to take down the town. We don’t think many of the demonstrators are armed. Our troops will come in by helicopter. We’ll go in when we receive the signal your team has disabled the computers. Once the town is taken, we expect to attack the compound. Most of the Tinker fighters and mobs will be captured in the town.”

  Loggerman had asked about the dogs at the compound. “The dogs are in their pen in the back. Doctor Mike has arranged with her inside contact, a man named Gramps to feed the dogs a sleeping drug. They’ll wake up later. By then we should have the situation under control.”

  The sun was displaying its dawn large red globe through the river mist. At Loggerman’s command, the Bertram engines were slowed entering the creek. The water smelled of seaweed and dead fish and crabs. Large trees grew and branched along the shoreline. Some of them dipped limbs into the water and their rotted grey stalks broken off in past storms littered the tiny muddy shorelines. A low ridge of clay and soil rose up from the tidelap. Roots extended from its soil and at the top of the bank grass patches grew among the loblolly pines.

  Ringo whispered with his special humor and guffaw, “This jet boat can go anywhere. Haw Haw.”

  They anchored the cruiser and walked into the shallows with no splash. The Chief and Ringo guarded the boat while Loggerman, Stephanie and the two Coast Guard Special Forces soldiers went ashore. Loggerman texted Eddison they were onshore and heading into the compound.

  The going was slow as they moved among the close trees and bramble shrubs. When they reached the steel link fence they went single file along its length. Finally reaching the spot where the student entrance was located, Loggerman called a halt. They listened. In the darkness something scraped against the fence a hundred feet to their left. The grass was high and hid anyone on the other side of the wire.

  A flashlight blinked on. It cast some light on the man carrying the light. He had it extended ahead of him, showing parts of his green uniform. Loggerman recognized the young guard he had met at the gate on his first visit to the compound. He held the same shotgun in his other hand. He appeared tentative in his step, as though terrified.

  The Coast Guard closest to the guard signaled to Loggerman the man was alone. Since he was on the other side of the fence the best thing Loggerman could do was to keep his team low on the ground and out of sight. He did not want to engage this guard and draw attention.

  However, the young guard moved closer to the fence. He moved his flashlight over the grass and then stopped.

  “Who’s there?” he called. He reached for the intercom radio attached to his belt.

  The fence had a small rip of three or four feet running vertically. A tree limb had fallen against and opened the links. An animal had also used it to enter the compound. The tear was big enough to allow Loggerman to move his arm and throw his knife. He did so.

  The blade entered the man’s body quietly. The guard gurgled, blood spilling down his uniform. He moved his hand from his radio, leaving it in its pouch. He slumped to the ground, his hand failing to pull free the combat knife stuck deep in his throat. He died in the grass.

  Loggerman waited with his team for a long moment listening, then moved on.

  The entrance to the tunnel into the barn was just ahead. They began to clear the brush over the entry hole Gramps had shown Loggerman before. They were behind the fence barrier and they worked quietly. One of the Coast Guard troops crawled up and handed Loggerman his knife.

  “Present from the dead guy. I thought you’d want it back,” he whispered with a grin. “I snagged his intercom radio, too. Nobody broadcasting. I’ll keep listening.”

  “Thanks.”

&nb
sp; They followed Loggerman, crawling ahead in the tunnel. The entrance through the foundation to the basement was just as Loggerman had left it. This time he could see more. At the end of the storage area, a small ceiling light showed a stairway to two doors. It allowed them to observe the large open space. Their guns were ready.

  As they came to the light, the Coast Guardsman whispered, “Radio talk. They are looking for the one we killed.”

  They moved quickly, assembling against the stairway. When they were ready they opened the right door.

  Two operators in green uniforms were at the terminals deeply absorbed in their work. Several computer stations amid tables piled high with printouts and storage discs stretched across a large well lit white workroom. At the far end another door was located in the center of the wall. To its left was an open stairway going upward to the second floor of the barn.

  Stephanie scanned the room.

  She whispered, “Whithers and my mom have offices upstairs. The volunteers have rooms upstairs too.”

  Suddenly the computer workers both looked up and stared directly at Loggerman. Their mouths opened to scream an alarm.

  Loggerman threw his knife at the closest worker and killed him with a strike to his throat. Seeing his blood spurt over the computer screen, the other clerk, a woman, ran towards the far door, holding a batch of papers. A silencer shot from a Coast Guard Sig Sauer split her spine and stopped her scream. She fell writhing, papers scattered, barely groaning before she died.

  The four attackers dropped down behind tables loaded with storage disks. They looked around.

  At the other end of the room, they heard noise on the stairway. Whistling a tune, Whithers came down the stairs with his hands full of storage disks. “Here are more entries to make,” he said in an administrative voice. He was so concentrated on his task; he did not notice the two dead bodies. He went to a large desk near the stair and he sat down at a keyboard. Loggerman recognized the man’s song as “Nearer My Lord to Thee.”

  Whither finished his typing. He sat back, stretching his arms above his head. He looked around and stiffened as he finally noticed the dead woman and the scattered papers around her body. He stopped whistling his music.

  Loggerman thought, This guy and his music from the old Titanic movie. He takes pleasure with death.

  Elizabeth came running down the stairs. She was holding another intercom. “One of the guards must be dead. The others are trying to assemble. Unfortunately most of them are reporting from the town.”

  The Coast Guard soldier signaled to Loggerman. He had the guard’s radio to his ear. He nodded.

  Whithers shouted, “They’ve been in here! Someone has infiltrated us!”

  An alert message splashed on the screen of the computer over Withers desk. The accountant brought his face close to the glass, pointed to it, and bounced up and down on his seat like a little boy.

  Elizabeth knelt over the woman on the floor. She gathered the papers and said, “You’re right. They have attacked us.”

  She looked quickly around the room and called on her mobile. Loggerman heard her viciously angry voice speak harshly to someone at the other end. She touched her large pearl necklace as she talked.

  Loggerman listened to the orders. She was talking about escape. He heard the fear about secret papers being discovered. “Yes, collect everything.”

  He smiled, recognizing his former wife’s personality. She was covering herself, her immediate planning to save her own wealth taking first place in her mind.

  She doesn’t change, he thought, and if these poor Tinker suckers are counting on her loyalty, they just as soon forget it.

  Stephanie grabbed his arm. She whispered, clutching him tightly, “Please save my mother, Daddy. She’s innocent.”

  Elizabeth put down her phone, talking to herself/ “The government has come into the compound. Ferrars said it would never happen - they were too scared of the Institute and its fans. Spire was wrong too. If only we had kept Cole.”

  She picked up the intercom again and shouted, “Well, get the job done! We already talked about this. Use the sheriff or one of his best men.” She listened again. “No, I don’t know if it is Stephanie. I know they captured her in Baltimore. Find her. Stephanie has to be killed.”

  Stephanie’s hand twisted on Loggerman’s forearm.

  Then Elizabeth listened again. She answered by shouting, “Find her and kill her! Yes, I am ordering you. I don’t care how you do it. Throw her to the dogs. If you don’t get her, you know what will happen when she talks. She knows all about me and everyone else. They’ll hang us for the people we killed in those attacks. You can be sure of everything, including your own life.”

  Stephanie gasped, and then said to Loggerman, “It has all been lies. Lies. I hated doing what she made me do with those horrible men.”

  Whithers had taken an automatic pistol from his desk. Elizabeth took another from the pocket of her green uniform. The two Tinker executives looked at each other and glanced around the room.

  Ferrars came down from the second floor with his metal-cleated boots smacking loudly on the steps. He approached Whithers and Elizabeth, carefully looking around.

  “We’re in trouble, Boss,” said Whithers, his voice weak.

  “What do you mean? Our plans are working and several grids have already blacked out. Our team is still fine across the country. We can still turn off lights.”

  “The government is attacking us. They have captured several teams and interrupted our plans. They also have Stephanie and she knows everything.”

  “We can operate everything from our other locations. Let’s pack up and set the kill switch on the computers.”

  He took a nearby keyboard and struck some keys. “There, they won’t get anything once this all explodes.”

  The ceiling lights dimmed. He patted the accountant on the shoulder.

  Whithers grinned. “OK, boss. We’re set. I have copies of all your files. Let’s go.”

  “Where are the kids?” Elizabeth asked. “We can’t have those kids getting loose,” she added.

  As they ran for the stairway, Whithers said, “They are tied securely upstairs and we have two guards with them.”

  Spire’s voice came from upstairs. “I’ve got the children for our hostages.”

  Loggerman stood up, pointing his H and K. He said, “Hands up.”

  Stephanie joined him, holding her own submachine gun.

  Ferrars and Whithers turned and fired at Loggerman and the others. They disappeared up the stairs.

  Elizabeth hesitated and faced her daughter.

  Stephanie said, “I worked so hard to save you from Ferrars.”

  “You have to listen. It’s not what you think.”

  “You just gave orders to kill me,” Stephanie said.

  “You have always been too young for the world as it is.”

  Elizabeth raised her pistol and aimed it at her daughter. “You little fool.”

  Stephanie said, “Those men, those filthy men, you made me touch them.” She raised her submachine gun, pointing it at her mother.

  Her mother raised her pistol and pulled its trigger.

  Stephanie repeated, “Men, Men,” making her gun jump with its bursts, her words drowned in the noise, but perhaps the way to erase the shameful memories.

  Her mother’s bullets sent splinters from a computer table nearby.

  Her body jerked with each burst, falling backwards, her hand dropping her pistol which clattered across the floor. Her body split in half, disintegrating with the impact of Stephanie’s high powered MP7 rounds. She died, her ripped face frozen in disbelief, her scar beaming bright red.

  Stephanie fell to her knees in front of her mother, her face in her hands, her machine gun clattering to the floor.

  “I had to do it.” She sobbed in deep noisy shaking of her body, as if she were vomiting each time the filthy memories of each targeted man in her mother’s assignments.

  Dozens of pearls had s
plit loose from her mother’s shattered necklace and rolled on the floor. The sound of tiny glass tumbling on the rough concrete floor sounded a carnival tribute to the older woman’s wasted life.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The boots of the escaping Tinker officials clumped on the floor above them.

  The Coast Guardswoman computer expert worked the computer Ferrars had set before he ran away. She yelled to Loggerman, “He locked the computers and we can’t retrieve the files.”

  “He must have had copies of the files in his suitcase,” replied Loggerman. “Keep trying.”

  She studied the machine, then looked up and said, “A timer is blinking. I think she’s been set to destroy her data files.”

  “Use your best judgment, soldier. Stop the destruction if you can. Remember, we’ve got to have those files if at all possible.”

  Loggerman pulled his bloody knife from the throat of the computer operator he had killed. He wiped off the blood on the man’s green shirt. He said, “Like you told me, Grandpa. Always keep the blade clean.”

  He led Stephanie and the Coastguardsman toward the stairway. “Careful,” he said, moving slowly and seeking cover near the machines as he moved forward.

  A burst of fire sprinkled them from above. The flames of the guns sparked against the concrete floor below. Loggerman spotted some brighter light to the right behind the shooters. He could see shadows on the upstairs walls of the movement of two guards.

  “Must be a back window they got open up there,” he said. “It’s their way out.”

  They got to the steps and began upward. He moved slowly, wooden step by step, his Heckler and Koch submachine gun pointed upward.

  He whispered to his man behind. “Don’t use tear gas or flash bang. It might harm the little girls these animals have taken for hostages.”

  Then, after a pause, he said, “I’ve got an idea. Cover me.” He crawled ahead faster, keeping low.

  Several bursts came at them, lighting up the hall. Chips of the wall plasterboard were in the air. Loggerman and the others fired upward. They heard a scream as a ricochet hit one of the guards. Loggerman recognized the volunteer named Softy. She was one of the women whose conversation he had recorded on his first trip into the compound. Softy twisted and slid forward, blocking the top tread, her blood from a chest wound covering the steps.